Devil's Dozen
by Cimz
Summary: In 2007, Lucas went to prison for shooting EJ DiMera. Soon after, Sami and her young twins vanished along with EJ. Thirteen years later, Lucas is released. Together with his son Will, he unravels the mystery of the missing twins. But without Sami, there is no real solution... (Written in 2007; no observation of show's later canon. Notably, Will is straight. Whoops.)
1. Will Alone

Devil's Dozen

_**Disclaimer**__: Everything you recognize as belonging to Days of Our Lives belongs to Ken Corday, Sony, and NBC. The story itself belongs to me._

_**Rating**__: PG-13_

_**Note**__: A devil's dozen, like a baker's dozen, is thirteen._

_This story was written in 2009 but veers away from the Days timeline in 2007 after Lucas goes to prison for shooting EJ at Sami's wedding. It flashes forward thirteen years, meaning that many Days developments are ignored; perhaps most notably, Will is written as heterosexual because at the time on the show he was dating girls and giving no sign that he was not attracted to them. That's a problem for you? Don't read._

_**Warning**__: For child abuse/molestation. Not graphic, but present._

* * *

Dr. Will Horton removed the envelope from the inside of his lab coat and settled himself at a table to read. Salem University Hospital's cafeteria was mostly empty at this time of day, which was for the best. Will didn't want to be interrupted. And he didn't want to explain to anyone, no matter how-well meaning, why the letter was affecting him as he knew it would.

But the letter hadn't arrived at his house until seconds before he ran out the door on his way to yet another double shift. His only choices were to bring the letter to work, or to wait until he got home to read it.

Waiting until he got home wasn't going to happen.

Nearly shaking with anticipation, he weighed the letter in his hand. It was more than a page long; but then, they usually were. He drew in a deep breath. Over the course of thirteen long years, never had one of these letters failed to make his day. But with luck, this would be the last one.

At last, having properly savored and loathed the experience, Will opened the letter and began to read.

_October 10, 2020_

Dear Will,

It feels strange to know that this will be my last letter to you.

Will smiled. They'd been kept separate for all of his adult life, but they were in agreement about that.

_Of course I'm looking forward to being able to see you in person and talk to you on the phone when your schedule allows for it._

The smile didn't fade, but didn't stop him from rolling his eyes. As if he wouldn't make certain that his schedule allowed for it.

_I understand that you aren't the teenager I left behind who always had time for his parents, at least when we weren't causing too much trouble. That wasn't often enough, I know. For all my faults, you and I were very close at one time. Your mother used to say I didn't understand that you were my son and not my friend. She may have been right. It was an easy mistake for me to make, what with you being wiser, more mature, and more practical than either one of your parents could have hoped to be. But it wasn't fair to you._

A lot of decisions that your mother and I made fell on you and your brother and sister. I don't know where Johnny and Allie are, so I can't apologize to them. But I will apologize to you.

I'm sorry, Will.

I won't say it again, because you'd get tired of hearing it, tired of trying to put me at ease, tired of trying to absolve me of my guilt. Or even if you didn't tire of it, it would be one more burden on you that never should have been yours to carry. But here and now, while I'm a captive and you're my captive audience, I've said it. I hope you'll always remember it.

I also hope you'll always remember how very proud I am of you. I couldn't be prouder. In fact, I'm prouder of you than any parent has ever been of any child. You could say that I haven't met every parent who ever lived, so I couldn't possibly know that I'm the proudest. But you'd be wrong. I can't tell you how I know, but I can tell you in all honesty that I do.

You were given a raw deal. Life handed you two teenaged parents who didn't have a clue. By the time we got around to straightening things out, you were half-grown, and then E.J. DiMera was in the picture. And before we knew it, you were left with a father in prison and a mother who wasn't in your life either.

Most people would have taken this as an excuse to fail. I might have in your place. But you came through it better and stronger. You stayed in school and went through some of the hardest professional training there is. I used to get tired just reading about your anatomy and organic chemistry classes. Now you spend every day helping people who can't always help themselves.

Like I told you, I couldn't be prouder and I couldn't love you more.

I've spent thirteen years in prison for shooting the man who raped my wife and threatened to murder my children. (Maybe he has murdered Allie and Johnny by now, for all any of us know.) The life I've led and the life I thought I would have when I married your mother and found out she was pregnant with the twins couldn't be more different. But I still know that the world can't be a complete loss while it has you in it. I don't feel that my life has been wasted, and that's because I contributed something to you.

If you get this before my release date, I want to remind you that you are not obligated to come and escort me out. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. Let Philip's lawyers spring me—he pays them well enough, I'm sure. This isn't a nice place and I don't want it anywhere near you. The air here isn't good enough for you to breathe. The ground here isn't good enough for you to touch. The walls aren't good enough for your eyes to see.

Whatever happens from here on out—I know that you may find you like me better as a prison pen pal than someone you see every day.

Will shook his head vehemently as much to clear his suddenly tear-blurred vision as in reaction to his father's words.

_I appreciate the support and love you have shown me. It has been a privilege to take part in your life vicariously. It has been an honor to know you made the time to write to me. You've been busy with school and your career and your life, but you've written enough letters to fill up all the books in the library here. (It's not a big library, as you might imagine, but you're only one person.)_

You are brave, generous, intelligent, loving, and wise. All that concerns me is that sometimes you forget it. Stop that.

Love,

Dad

Will slipped into a reverie as he stared at the letter long after he'd finished reading it. He jumped, startled, when a hand slapped itself across his shoulders in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. Will jumped hard enough bang his knees on the table and send it skittering. It would have toppled over had his assailant not grabbed it.

"I'm sorry, Will."

"No problem." It _was _a problem, really. He'd wanted to be left alone to relish and mourn his father's letter. But Dr. Craig Wesley was the Chief of Staff at University Hospital, and that made him Will's boss. Or, more accurately, Will's boss's boss's boss. Will wasn't going to get in an argument with him. Sometimes Will wasn't sure he liked Dr. Wesley, but he thought the man was a decent manager and administrator.

He folded the letter and returned it to his lab coat. Dr. Wesley had the grace not to ask about it, or maybe he just didn't care.

Will broke the silence before it could become awkward. "What can I do for you, Dr. Wesley?"

Dr. Wesley beamed. "I'm so glad you asked. We have a new group of interns coming in next week. One of them is particularly special to me."

Will nodded. The hospital's extensive gossip network had spoken of little else for the past two days. "You must be very proud of your daughter."

"Nothing could make me happier than Joy deciding to come here. She had offers from hospitals all over the country, some of the best."

Will hadn't needed the rumor mill to tell him that. Joy Wesley was a newly minted prodigy of a neurosurgeon. She had had her name attached to articles in medical journals while still in med school. There had even been an article _about _her that had gushed over her instincts and ability to innovate. Dr. Wesley had pinned copies of everything to the bulletin board beside his door with a sign that read "MY DAUGHTER!" beside them, as if everyone hadn't already known.

Dr. Wesley continued, oblivious to Will's inner commentary. "Joy has insisted that she wants no special treatment from me."

"I'm sure she doesn't need it," Will mumbled, dreading what he knew was coming next in spite of himself.

"She doesn't. But I'm her father, and if I had my way I'd be following her around every step of every day. Nancy had to hold me down to keep me from moving right into her dorm room when she left for college."

Will forced a laugh and tried to pretend that he was long past caring that neither one of his parents could have seen him off to college, let alone posted news of his exploits for all to see, even if they'd wanted to.

"I never get to work with the interns as much as I'd like, and I'm afraid Joy is going to be no exception. So I was wondering if, as a favor to me, you'd help look out for her."

There it was. Will had known it was coming. "I don't see the neurosurgeons that often. Not unless I've called one in to consult." Will was strictly a family medicine, primary care sort of doctor. He wasn't in this for the glory or the money. He wanted to be the sort of doctor who saw the same patients year in and year out, who caught little problems before they became big problems, and who was trusted by families to help them find the right solution when something went wrong.

"That's what I'm asking," Dr. Wesley said with the tiniest edge to his voice. "Make an effort to see Joy sometimes. This is a teaching hospital. That's why we have residents and interns and students here. I am asking you, as one of the most respected residents in this hospital, to pay special attention to one of the interns who has come here to learn. It's good experience for you if you'd like to be an attending here in the next few years, isn't it?"

"Of course," Will managed, resenting the hell out of this. "I only thought that there are more experienced physicians with specialties that have more in common with—"

"She'll sort herself out with medicine and surgery. Where she's going to struggle is with the bedside manner end of things. And there's no one, not one doctor, who has a better rapport with patients than you do. I've read your performance evaluations and I've watched you work. No matter who your patient is or what he's done to himself, you make him better and you don't judge. You treat a homeless drug addict who walked off the street and into the clinic and a member of the hospital board just the same, and each of them walks away thinking he's your favorite patient."

"That's my job," said Will, now a little embarrassed. He did get good performance evaluations, but the people who evaluated him never got worked up about it like this.

"Yes," said Dr. Wesley, like a man who knew he had just gotten his way. "It's your job, and soon it will be Joy's job. So you will help Joy learn how to do her job."

"It would be my pleasure."

"I thought it would be. And it might be for the best if you didn't repeat this conversation to her."

"Right." Will had figured that part out himself. Joy wasn't going to hold anything against her doting father who just happened to be the most powerful person in the hospital. But she might very well be willing to be angry with the resident who'd gotten roped into helping her with what someone had the gall to perceive as her weaknesses.

Will had read the interview Dr. Wesley had posted on the bulletin board. In it, Joy had actually said that she didn't think she _had _any weaknesses. For all he prided himself on treating everyone fairly and not judging anyone for his choices, he couldn't help but dread the day he had to try to work with a braggart like Joy Wesley.

Dr. Wesley grinned again and turned to leave. "The interns will be getting their tour on the seventeenth. Join us."

Will cringed. _The seventeenth. Any day but the seventeenth. _"I have a prior commitment," he said firmly.

"Change it."

"I can't."

"I think you'll find that you can."

With that, Dr. Wesley was gone, pausing only to drop a flier with the schedule of intern orientation on the table in front of Will.

Will scowled as he felt the letter brush his hand. Now he had two reasons to dislike Joy Wesley, and he hadn't even met her yet.

He eyed the flier warily. The conflict wasn't as bad as he'd feared, but the situation wasn't good, either. He pulled out his cell phone and scanned through the list of names until he reached "Philip—work."

"Mr. Kiriakis' office," the secretary intoned threateningly.

"May I speak to Mr. Kiriakis, please?" Will asked, unconsciously mimicking her officious tone.

"He's not in today. May I take a message?"

"That's funny. He told me he'd be in all week. This is his nephew, Will Horton."

The shift in tone was dramatic. "Of course, Dr. Horton. I didn't recognize your voice. I'll put you right through."

She was as good as her word. "Kiriakis," Philip answered with perfect Greek pronunciation. He hadn't been told Will was on the phone, or he wouldn't have bothered to make an attempt at intimidation.

Make an attempt? He succeeded. If Will hadn't known Philip all his life, he would have been terrified. "Philip, it's Will."

Like the receptionist, Philip instantly adjusted his attitude. "Hey, Will. We're getting close to the big day, huh?"

"That's what I'm calling about. Dr. Wesley wants me working on the seventeenth. It's orientation for the interns and he didn't want to hear it when I said no."

Philip scoffed. "Sounds like someone needs a reminder that your uncle is on the Board. Not to mention your grandmother—Belle votes her proxy half the time, I'll have her meet me there—"

"No!" Will objected quickly. "I don't want special treatment." That was exactly his problem with Joy Wesley. Well, one of his many problems with Joy Wesley.

"Your father," said Philip dangerously, "has been in prison for thirteen years when he should have been given a medal for what he did. He is being released on the seventeenth. I will be there, and you will be there."

"He said you should just send the lawyers. I got a letter from him today."

"The attorneys will come along to make sure no one tries anything," Philip confirmed. "Are you seriously telling me you don't want to be there? You'd rather work? You work all the time, Will."

"That's rich, coming from you," Will shot back. Six days a week, Philip was the biggest workaholic in Salem. Saturday was for Claire and Tyler, and every other day was for Titan Industries.

"If I was going to see someone I loved for the first time since iPhones and Wiis were in, I'd take the day off. In fact, I have."

"I can still make it to the prison. I'm just not sure about dinner. If I have to go AWOL from work, I will. But I don't want you to throw your weight around."

"You're sure? It's fun watching Craig Wesley squirm." Philip did sound as if he particularly relished the thought. Their history went back to when Philip had been a teenager dating Dr. Wesley's older daughter.

"I'm sure," Will confirmed.

"Offer still stands if he tries to make anything of it when you end up no-showing, then. You're meeting me at Titan in three days?"

Will closed his eyes. _Three days_ sounded imminent. "I'll be there."

"Good. See you then. Call if you change your mind."

The phone clicked off in Will's ear before he could even say goodbye.

It didn't matter. He had a patient waiting for him upstairs by now.

_**TBC**_


	2. Lucas' Release

**Devil's Dozen: Part 2**

Lucas forced himself to stay put on his bed instead of pacing up and down the short length of the cell as he wanted to. Pacing was a sign of nervous anxiety, and nerves were easily exploited both by the guards and his fellow prisoners. He hoped that he would never see the guards and prisoners again after today, but he couldn't be sure. There had been many false starts over the past thirteen years. But each time the team of attorneys Philip insisted were the best money could by was sure they'd arranged an appeal or a transfer or some sort of bargain, it had ended the same way: with Lucas back in prison. Philip might have had the money for a team of fine attorneys, but the EJ DiMera had the money for a surfeit of judges. Stefano had willed them to his son along with his phoenix rings and chess sets.

He tried not to be superstitious—in his experience, no good came of that—but it was hard not to curse himself for having written a "last" letter to Will the week before. He had spent every minute since writing the letter wondering if he had somehow jinxed his release.

"HORTON!" bellowed one of the guards. "Step back," he added more quietly when he saw that he had Lucas' attention.

Lucas obeyed. The guard cast a hard look at Lucas' cellmate, who was sleeping. He and Lucas had only been sharing a cell for a few weeks, so it wasn't too insulting that the man had decided not to see Lucas off.

When the guard was assured that no one intended to ruin Lucas' grand exit with an attempted prison break, he opened the cell door and took Lucas by the arm. Lucas automatically held out his hands to be cuffed.

"No need."

The bottom fell out of Lucas' stomach. There was always a need for handcuffs. The idea that today there wasn't was both intoxicating and terrifying.

The guard kept his hand on Lucas' arm as they walked toward the rooms where he had occasionally visited with Philip's lawyers. He hadn't been allowed other visitors, which was just as well. This was the last place he wanted Will, or anyone else, to visit.

As they passed through two locked doors, Lucas caught a glimpse of one of the lawyers. She smiled at him, detached and professional.

Then Lucas and the guard were standing in what looked like a waiting room and the guard was holding a duffel bag that had appeared from somewhere.

"Strip," the guard ordered. This was a normal request. Lucas was past the point of finding it disturbing or degrading. (He had never found it embarrassing, as a surprising number of the inmates did.) "I'm going to have to check you one more time, and then you can put these on."

Five minutes later, it had been established that Lucas was not in fact attempting to smuggle anything out of prison and he was clothed, for the first time since his last courtroom appeal, in something other than a bright orange jumpsuit. The jeans and sneakers felt odd. They fit perfectly, but when Lucas glanced down at himself, he was sure that they belonged to someone who was not him.

The door unlocked from the other side, and three more guards entered along with two lawyers, Philip, and—Lucas' heart constricted—Will.

Lucas hadn't needed to see Will in person to be reminded that his son was now a grown man. Looking at him was a shock nonetheless. He locked eyes with Will and wasn't able to break the hold even as he obeyed the lawyers' steady stream of commands to "sign here, and here, and here."

When the signing had been completed, Lucas was finally allowed to step out the door and into a parking lot full of slanting autumn afternoon sun.

Philip thanked the attorneys, who packed themselves into a red BMW and sped off.

For a long, irrational second, Lucas was sure that Will and Philip were going to vanish and leave him there, too. But Philip gestured in the direction of a limousine, which swung itself around in front of them. The door opened as if of its own accord, revealing leather seats, a refrigerator, and more than one television screen.

"Get in," Philip directed, and Lucas was happy to obey. The world was new to him again. He needed instructions for things like getting into cars. In prison, he hadn't made his own decisions about anything: not when he washed, not whether he exercised, not what he ate, not to whom he spoke. Clambering into a car that opened its doors before them seemed natural to Will and Philip, but it wasn't to Lucas.

"Nice car," Lucas told Philip. His words echoed inside his head. What was he going to do now that he was expected to talk to people about things other than who was going to threaten whose life? Everything had changed while Lucas was gone. Most changed was Will, Lucas decided. He was no longer a gangling, mercurial teenager but a grown man with a respectable career.

"Thanks."

"It has a great video game system," Will said happily. "Tyler kicks my ass, but maybe I could do okay playing against you."

Then again, maybe some things didn't change just because your son was a grown man with a respectable career. "You could do okay, could you? You aren't trying to scam me here, are you?"

Will did his best to look wounded and innocent. His best wasn't very good. Will never had been much of a poker player. "Ty really does kick my ass."

"Tyler kicks everybody's ass on that thing," Philip agreed. "If Ty had his way, the world would consist of baseball and those video games. Nothing else. Thank God Shawn finally got him into baseball. Before that, it was just the games. Now at least he goes outside sometimes."

"I can't wait to meet him," said Lucas, even though the thought filled him with dread. He was supposed to have a son—he did have a son—almost the same age as Tyler, but none of them knew where Johnny was, let alone whether he liked baseball and video games.

"He wanted to come tonight," Philip said. "Everyone did. Belle and Shawn and Claire. Chelsea and Nick and Max and Morgan, and Bo and Hope and Ciara and—well, all of your family and all of Sami's."

Lucas tensed at the mention of Sami's name, and felt Will react in kind beside him. "I'm surprised Sami's family still wants anything to do with me."

"Why?" Will and Philip demanded in unison. Philip deferred to Will with an eyeroll that seemed to wish his nephew luck. "Dad, Mom made her choices all on her own. It's not like she asked you, or me. It's not like she even cared what we thought."

"That isn't true, Will. She cared."

"But not as much as she cared about marrying herself off to EJ, like that was going to work." It appeared that Will hadn't left his childhood traumas behind quite as completely as Lucas had thought.

Lucas sighed. He had those thoughts on a daily basis himself. "That's not the point. The point is that even if your mother made a bad choice, _my _bad choice didn't help any of us either."

"What bad choice?"

Philip muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _"not aiming for his head,"_ but Lucas ignored him. "Haven't you taken an oath to do no harm?" he asked Will.

Will was unmoved. "I don't see how shooting EJ would harm anyone."

"Well, it put me in jail and I wasn't there to fight for your mother and the twins. It was a bad idea, and Sami might not be in the state that she's in if I'd been around."

"Mom was going to do what Mom was going to do, and she didn't care who was around," said Will coolly. "Mom's family gets that. Everyone thinks you're a hero for trying to protect us from EJ and then doing time for it."

Lucas doubted that everyone thought that. "All Sami was trying to do was protect us, too," he told Will.

"She was trying to make a martyr out of herself, and what do you know, she managed it. Are you going to go see her?"

"I'm not allowed to leave the country for another year." It was an easy answer, an easy excuse. Lucas had had plenty of time to think about whether he might visit Sami once he'd been released from prison, and he hadn't come to a good answer. Sami, for all her flaws, had been the great love of his life and the mother of his children. He knew that. Whether Sami felt the same way, and whether she would want him to visit if she were given a choice, he didn't know.

"We can have her moved her, if you want," Philip said quietly from his corner of the car.

Lucas shook his head. "No. We made the decision to leave her where she is. It's not like she knows the difference, and if it flushes out Allie or Johnny, it'll be worth it. I think she'd want that. They're getting old enough to pull something like that off without permission now, too."

"If they even want to see her," said Will, then choked as if he hadn't expected to say it aloud. Lucas didn't respond. There was no way to respond.

With an effort, the three of them turned the conversation to safer topics, like Will's co-workers and Philip's children. Before Lucas knew it the limo was pulling out of traffic. "We can walk from here," Philip told the driver. "Go home, you're done for the night."

"Very good, Mr. Kiriakis."

Lucas had better luck determining that he should get out of the car than he'd had determining that he should get into it. He was learning, at least.

The instant he stepped out of the car, though, he found himself nearly thrown against it by a strange but familiar figure. "I'm so glad to see you, so glad," the figure was repeating tearfully. That was Lucas' first clue that he was being hugged rather than hauled back to prison. The second clue was the perfume. Billie still wore the same scent.

"Billie, could you not attack him?" someone else was asking. It wasn't Will or Philip.

"Austin?" Lucas pulled back from Billie.

"Good to see you, Bro."

Lucas looked around. There were plenty of people on the streets, but none seemed to be paying them much attention. "Who else is coming?"

"Told you," said Philip. "Everyone you've ever met wanted to come, and some people you haven't. But for the first night, we kept it small."

"How small?" asked Lucas warily as he watched a figure speeding purposefully toward them. Victor Kiriakis had sometimes thrown "small" parties to which three hundred people were invited. Perhaps Philip was following in his father's footsteps.

"Just the people you see here. We didn't want to overwhelm you," Austin reassured with a hand on Lucas' shoulder. "Back off, Billie," he added casually.

"No," said Billie, and tightened her grip on Lucas.

Lucas closed his eyes and let himself enjoy Billie's arms around his chest and Austin's hand on his shoulder. The greeting committee he had really wanted was Sami and Allie and Johnny and Will. But since the only one he could have was Will, he was lucky to have two brothers and a sister here to round out his welcome.

"Missed you, too, Billie," he told her. She finally loosened her grip enough that he could get a proper look at her. As the handful of pictures he'd seen during his incarceration had suggested, she had hardly aged at all. Austin's hairline had a receded a bit, but he, too, still looked younger than he was. Lucas was the one who had spent their time apart in hell and he was the one who looked it.

"What is he doing?" Austin hissed, breaking the spell of the reunion.

Lucas and Billie followed Austin's gaze. The man Lucas had noticed running toward them was talking animatedly to Will and Philip. Lucas could now see that he was wearing scrubs; one of Will's friends from the hospital, presumably. But it was another arrival that had provoked Austin's ire.

"Who?"

"It's Craig Wesley. Will's boss. The one who went through all that effort to slander Carrie—she sends her love, totally crushed she can't be here—way back when."

Lucas thought it was sporting of Austin to forget that no one could have slandered his wife if she'd managed to remain faithful to him. He and Austin and Billie moved closer to the others.

Craig was stammering something about not knowing why Will had wanted time off; the stammering was presumably prompted by Philip's disapproving glare. Lucas almost pitied the man, and didn't mind returning the handshake Craig offered along with a tactful "Good to see you again, Lucas." Lucas responded in kind. "I had no idea why Will wanted tonight off. He didn't tell me. I only wanted him there to set an example for the interns because he's one of the best young doctors we have, but of course he's excused." Craig looked back at Will. "I just wish you'd told me why, or at least called in that you weren't coming."

"You're blowing off work?" Lucas asked his son. This wasn't a precedent he wanted to set. Will was supposed to be enjoying the life he'd built for himself, not looking after his wayward father.

"It's only intern training," said Will quickly, like he'd used to say "it's only social studies" when Lucas asked him why he hadn't done his homework.

"You should go," Lucas said quietly.

Will's refusal was drowned out by the synchronized buzzing of his, Craig's, and the other doctor's beepers.

"I do have to go," Will said. "Emergency. I'm really sorry."

"Go save the world," Lucas told him. Lucas and Austin exchanged a proud glance as Will took off toward the hospital at a dead run.

Billie, less in sync with Philip, slapped him hard on the arm.

Philip rubbed at the spot she had slapped. "What did you do that for?"

"Your stupid performance for Craig Wesley. Did you have to make him fear for his job?"

"I only have one seat on the Board. Two, if Belle has me vote Marlena's. I can't get him removed all by myself."

Billie rolled her eyes. "Yes, you can."

"Yes, I can," Philip agreed, and he didn't sound ashamed. "Guy was being a jerk and he needed to sweat."

"Who appointed you the person who gets to make other people sweat?"

"It's more an inherited position than an appointed one." He cut off Billie's retort by turning swiftly toward the building behind them; belatedly, Lucas realized that the car had taken them directly to the Titan building. "You don't mind the Penthouse Grille for dinner, do you?"

Lucas looked down at his strange, new jeans and sneakers. "I'm not dressed for it."

"No one's going to care. Besides, it's closed for a private party. Ours."

Billie rushed forward to catch up with Philip. "Didn't you tell me yesterday that it was already booked solid? An anniversary party or something?"

"So I cancelled the reservations. Those people will be having a much happier anniversary now that they've been reimbursed for twice the cost of the party with vouchers for a free meal here for every guest when we're actually open."

Austin took Billie by the arm as the four of them entered the elevator. "Let it go," he whispered.

"For now," she whispered back.

As they entered the restaurant, Lucas was left with the distinct impression that the battle between his sister and younger brother was far from over. Worse, he expected that he would soon be in the middle of it. 


	3. Austin's Wise Decision

**Part 3**

Will was secretly, guiltily relieved as he rushed into the hospital with other doctors and nurses who had been paged. He didn't welcome whatever disaster had summoned them, but he welcomed the opportunity to do something he understood. Medicine was easy compared to his family.

He ran to the nurses' station on the fifth floor and pulled up sharply, breathless but thinking clearly for the first time that day. "I was paged. What's going on?"

The nurse looked him over as if he were over-reacting by more than a little. "I didn't mean to alarm you, Dr. Horton. You asked to be paged if anything—anything—happened regarding Theo Carver. There are notes all over his files, in your own handwriting." She held out a file as if to prove it.

Will opened his mouth to ask what had happened to Theo, but the nurse was two steps ahead of him. "Contusions, cuts that could use a few stitches, and maybe a fractured wrist. They haven't had a chance to look at him down in the ER. Some kids were fooling around and caused a twenty-car pileup near exit 28."

Will didn't ask whether Theo had been one of the "kids" responsible for the accident. He wanted to hear it from Theo himself.

Will had been more than a little flattered a few days before when Dr. Wesley had claimed that every patient Will saw felt that he or she had been treated as a special favorite. Theo Carver, though, really was a special favorite. Will felt a particular kinship for Theo; sometimes it was almost as if Theo was the younger brother Will had never had a chance to have. They'd both been stuck with crazy mothers who could never leave well enough alone. Theo's mother had once been a doctor at this very hospital, but her medical license had long since been rather publicly revoked.

As a teenager, Will had had the option of fleeing to Switzerland and the comparative normalcy of his aunt and uncle. Theo hadn't had that chance, though, and instead had taken special pleasure in getting into one kind of trouble after another. Will had thought—did think—Theo was making an effort to turn that around now. When they'd last spoken, Theo had hesitantly suggested that going back to school might not be out of the question.

Will knocked at the exam room door.

"Come in."

Theo was slouched in a chair, looking neither guilty or defiant.

Will's eyes swept over the cuts and bruises. Some of them looked painful, but Will had long ago learned not to wince. "Look who's back."

"They made me come up here," said Theo by way of explanation. "They said it was that or wait in the emergency room—leaving wasn't a choice. Isn't that illegal?"

"You didn't want to come see me? I'm hurt." Will ignored the question about legalities. No one had _made _Theo Carver do anything in years. That was part of his problem.

"Not really," said Theo, but he said it almost affectionately. "It's a couple of bruises."

"Then jump up on the table and let's see your wrist."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that," muttered Theo, but he complied.

The examination revealed that Theo was correct; his wrist was deeply bruised, but nothing more. But Theo's gloating was short-lived when Will announced that the worst of his cuts needed stitches. "Do you have to?"

"I've stitched you up more times than either of us can count. It never bothered you before."

"Will it be a… a problem if I have to go out of the country?"

Will made an effort not to shiver and forcibly reminded himself that most people who wanted to leave the country didn't do so because they had broken the law and were trying to evade punishment. Besides, Theo had always taken particular glee in being punished. He'd seemed to enjoy being caught more than he'd enjoyed his petty crimes. "Where are you planning on going?"

"London. Paris. All over Italy."

"Lucky you," Will said, even though he hated London. He only went there to visit a mother who didn't know or care that he existed.

Theo deflated visibly and shook his head. "I'm going with my cousin Jett. We're going to visit all the places my mother's family used to own. The DiMeras."

Will closed his eyes for a long second and then jumped up on the table beside Theo. "What your grandfather did has nothing to do with you, just like what your mother did has nothing to do with you."

"What my grandfather did had nothing to do with my mother, and then she found out that he was her father, and BANG," Theo snapped his fingers, "she went bad."

"She did some stupid things, but that's not the same as being inherently evil," said Will, feeling like a complete hypocrite. Lucas had always been in the position of saying things like that to Will about Sami, and it had never eased Will's deep-down feeling of hurt that Sami had disappointed him and hadn't cared.

"Whether she's good or bad or whatever, I feel like I need to know." A kind of pleading most unusual for Theo filled the small room. "I need to see what they saw before I decide that that's not what I am."

"I can understand that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And the stitches shouldn't be a problem. You might feel a little stiffer than usual after sitting on the plane time with all these bumps. Try to move around some while you're in the air."

"I will."

It was only after the stitches were in place and the chart was completed that Will asked Theo what had happened. "I knew they were planning a prank by the exit ramp and I thought I could talk them out of it. It didn't go so well. I told the cops everything already."

"Good for you."

"There's funny, and there's getting people killed. There's a difference, and those four—well, really it's only Jake, he's the leader—well, they don't get it."

Will didn't point out that the choice Theo had made that day differentiated him from his DiMera ancestors every way that mattered, and that no trip to Europe would make that more or less true. Theo had to learn that on his own.

The two of them made companionable small talk as they took a roundabout route downstairs.

Also taking the little-used stairs was a herd of nervous looking men and women about Theo's age. "The interns," Will muttered.

"How come you aren't on intern duty?" asked Theo in a mock-smarmy voice. "I thought they wanted the interns to learn from the best."

"Welcome to University Hospital," Will told the interns as he pointedly ignored Theo.

He received a smattering of thank-yous and hopeful glances, but most of the interns were focused on the tiny, blood-spattered redhead who was brazenly staring down their tour guide.

Joy Wesley, in the flesh, at last.

"You were there to observe, not to—"

"The person doing triage got it wrong," the newest Dr. Wesley was complaining with a self-assurance familiar to anyone who knew the elder Dr. Wesley. "I jumped in because someone had to. Would you have rather had that woman die?"

"The situation was under control—"

"Then why wasn't she taken back first?"

"Our staff is very experienced—"

"Experienced isn't the same as intelligent. It's a good thing I was there. Why can't you admit it?"

Will and Theo slipped past the argument without drawing further attention to themselves. They pushed open the doors leading to the street in perfect unison and went their separate ways. Will felt ready to face his father again; after all, the reunion would surely be more fun than attempting to reign in University Hospital's newest resident genius.

* * *

Upstairs, the Penthouse Grille looked just as Lucas remembered it—not that he'd spent his years in prison wallowing in his memories of restaurants. Now that he was confronted with it, though, he felt that he had been unexpectedly jerked back to a moment in time when he hadn't known that a sizable chunk of his life would be spent behind bars. The air was thick with his past.

He saw Sami, barely fifteen years old, wide-eyed as she took in the view from what had then been a new building.

He saw himself on one knee, holding a microphone and asking Sami to marry him.

He saw a menu held inches from his face, and was overwhelmed by the array of choices.

Belatedly, he realized that his brothers, sister, and a uniformed waiter were all staring at him expectantly. He had sat down and picked up the menu in a fog, but the words had blurred before his eyes and he hadn't felt any sense of urgency to focus on them. The idea of _choosing _what he wanted to eat was so completely foreign to him that he didn't know quite what to do.

"Lucas? Are you okay?" asked Billie in the tone of voice usually reserved for small children or the mentally incompetent. Lucas registered the words and their meaning, but he couldn't figure out how to respond. His eye caught on the bottle of Dom Perignon that sat between Austin and Philip (the bottle between Billie and Lucas was, of course, sparkling cider).

"Filet Mignon, for him and for me," Billie told the waiter, who looked unsure as to whether he should stay or go. "That's what you're supposed to order when you get out of prison," she added to Lucas in a stage whisper. "You didn't grow up like Austin and I did, so maybe you didn't know." Lucas thought that she was more or less joking and wished he remembered how to laugh and assure her that he appreciated her efforts on his behalf, but that he was fine now, really.

Meanwhile, Austin and Philip ordered, and the waiter hurried away. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Philip fixed Billie with a glare. "Don't coddle him like that, Billie. He's never going to learn to deal with the world again if you do."

"It's been, what, three hours? Just because you've decided no one should have any feelings doesn't mean—"

As long as Billie and Philip were going to discuss him like he wasn't there, Lucas didn't see the need for his continued presence at the table. Instead, he gestured that Austin should follow him to one of the large windows that looked out over Salem. Austin hastened to obey.

"What's really going on with them?" Lucas asked before Austin could start fussing like Billie or glowering with disapproval like Philip.

Austin sighed and dragged his hands through his short, graying hair. "I don't want to get into—and I don't know all of the details because I've tried to stay out of it—but as long as they're going to bring it up."

Lucas still felt unnerved by his reaction to the menu, but he was nonetheless fairly sure Austin hadn't responded to his question at all. "What's really going on with them?" he repeated.

Austin made an obvious effort to answer. "A couple of months ago, Billie and her husband—well, Billie thinks Philip is taking after Victor too much and making Titan his whole life. She thinks he didn't deal with it well when Victor died."

Lucas winced sympathetically. Victor's was one of a number of funerals he had missed during his long incarceration. It hadn't been the one that hurt the worst—that had been the funeral of his grandmother—but it was still one of the more dehumanizing moments of the past thirteen years. Victor had been the closest thing he'd had to a father in his entire life. He should have been allowed to say goodbye. He should have been there to help Billie worry over Philip.

"And what does Philip think?" he prompted Austin aloud.

"Philip thinks Billie should mind her own business and he said a few nasty things to her, which only makes Billie more convinced that Philip is letting Titan eat him alive."

Lucas nodded.

"They'll be fine," Austin assured. "I wish they hadn't put you in the middle so fast, but they've already fought over Chelsea, Claire, Tyler, and Will. They had to move on to you."

"They haven't fought over you yet?"

Austin smiled almost conspiratorially. "There's a reason Carrie and I live in Switzerland."

A door slammed, interrupting Philip and Billie's loud conversation and Austin and Lucas' quiet one.

"I have been treated badly in my life, but I never thought I would see the day that three of my children would fail to invite me to join their brother on his first night home in thirteen years."

Four heads twisted to stare as Kate Roberts tossed her white fur coat over a chair and stormed toward them.

"Yeah," Austin whispered in Lucas' ear. "There's definitely a reason Carrie and I live in Switzerland."

_**TBC**_


	4. Grandma Kate

**Part 4**

Lucas let Kate storm up to him and hug him as tightly and relentlessly as Billie had earlier that day. This was his mother, after all, and what else was he supposed to do? He'd never been good at refusing Kate anything she wanted. On one or two occasions in his life, he'd held out for a few weeks, but usually he couldn't even last a few minutes. One of the dubious "benefits" of his long stay behind bars was the way he'd been able—indeed, forced— to keep his mother at arm's length.

"It's so wonderful to see you," Kate told him over and over as mascara streaked down her cheeks with her tears. Lucas cynically remembered the time she'd told him that she deliberately refrained from using waterproof mascara so that her alleged distress would be more obvious. She'd used this trick a time or two to manipulate a friend or acquaintance (but never a business associate, for there was no higher disgrace for a glass-ceiling-breaking female executive than to cry in the boardroom).

Yes, Lucas was intimately familiar with Kate's methods. That didn't mean that he was immune to them.

"Great to see you, too, Mom," he told her, and his eyes were burning a little bit, too. Just then, he couldn't fathom why his brothers and sister hadn't invited their mother to this private party. His mind was full of thoughts of Kate telling him she'd managed to get him admitted to one of the most exclusive elementary schools in New York City; Kate taking a rare moment away from work to help Lucas feed ducks in Central Park; Kate promising Lucas that he would never lose Will's love, and that she knew Lucas would never have hit Will; Kate swearing that she would risk her own life to keep Lucas out of prison.

He had more than once considered that maybe he should have taken her up on that last offer.

"How are you feeling, Baby?" she asked at last.

"Good. Better."

"Then I am, too." She turned abruptly to Philip, Austin, and Billie, though she never quite let go of Lucas' arm. "I don't blame Lucas for this, but what do the rest of you have to say for yourselves?"

Billie and Philip glared at each other. Austin rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

Lucas tried to think of something to say to get them off the hook, but he was out of practice. His mind had gone blank again.

Billie was the one who answered. "We thought that it might be less… stressful and overwhelming for Lucas if we kept it small for his first night home."

"And his mother is overwhelming and stressful?"

Billie launched into what Lucas thought was a fairly tactful response, but it was Austin and Philip's barely-concealed laughter that drew Kate's attention.

"What's funny about that?" Kate snapped at Philip.

Philip pretended to think. "Did you or did you not interrupt the most important board meeting Titan has had in ten years to complain that you saw Shawn playing catch with Ty in the park?"

"I'd think you'd be grateful for the warning! Tyler is your son, not Shawn's, and I don't know where he collected those boys they were playing with. If you want Tyler to take over Titan one day, that's not where you want him growing up. You let Shawn and Belle and that illegitimate child—"

"Do _not _speak about Claire that way," said Philip with such threatening overtones that Lucas was impressed that their mother didn't quit while she was behind.

"For heaven's sake, Philip, she's not here. I accept that she's Tyler's sister, but you have to remember that Claire was born while Belle was married to you, and Belle tried to pass her off as your child. You should be furious at Shawn and Belle, and instead you gave them your family's home while you live in an apartment next to your office."

"You gave the Kiriakis Mansion to Shawn and Belle?" Lucas couldn't stop himself from asking.

"It's a lease—"

"One dollar a year—"

"And it's more or less in trust for Tyler. Houses keep better when they're lived in, and I spend all my time at Titan. Claire and Tyler can use the room, and I do stay there _sometimes_."

"Shawn and Belle are living in your house and raising your child. Forgive me for being concerned that you've lost yourself while you're trying to take care of your father's businesses."

Philip flicked an irritated look at Billie. "I see you've been talking to Mom."

Billie raised her hands in surrender. "Oh, no. This was not me. You know I've been in London—"

"You've been in Salem with your daughter, and please stop pretending she isn't pregnant. She's showing," snapped Kate.

"Chelsea cannot be pregnant. She and Nick are separated," said Billie, enunciating each word carefully.

"And if you believe that, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I can sell you. Why Nick is pretending to chase after that bimbo at the hospital is beyond me, but after Chelsea's third miscarriage…"

Lucas winced. Billie had sent him an excited letter detailing Chelsea's first pregnancy and a tearful letter when she'd lost the baby. He hadn't known that it had happened two more times.

When he returned his attention to the conversation, Kate had directed her ire back to Philip. "I would not interfere in my grandchildren's lives if my children didn't consistently make such ridiculous decisions."

"You raised us."

"Actually, she didn't," Billie and Austin chimed in in perfect unison.

Philip eyed them thoughtfully. "Now that I think of it, my nanny mostly raised me until I was about fifteen and Mom wanted me to get Dad to take her back after she cheated on him. The divorce was when I first realized who my parents were."

Kate rolled her eyes. "That's not true and you know it."

"As many people who weren't you and Dad who were in and out of that house, it might as well have been true. That's not what I want for Tyler, and that's why he's with his mother and his stepfather and his sister most of the time."

"I never thought I'd see the day that I'd wish Mimi Lockhart had turned out to be Tyler's mother."

"Well, she's not. Belle is, and she and I were married and in love when we decided to have Tyler. I still care for her."

"That's obvious. You with Belle, Lucas with Sami—I almost don't know which of Marlena's daughters did more damage in the end."

"Sami didn't do any damage!" Lucas broke in, surprising himself.

"Really? Then where are Allie and Johnny? You went to prison to protect them, and what did Sami do? She ran away to England with the man you were trying to protect them from. None of us have seen them for more than ten years."

"That's enough!" Austin interrupted at last. "Mom, you're welcome to stay if you want, but I really don't think it's appropriate for you to start attacking Sami under the circumstances."

"What circumstances? That she was so weak-minded she couldn't take care of her children and had to be put in an institution?"

"She was hit over the head!" Billie reminded Kate. "No one recovers from that kind of brain damage, and it has nothing to do with weakness of mind. I would think that after everything you went through with Curtis, you wouldn't judge Sami because the man she was forced to marry beat her into a coma with some blunt object no one ever found."

"And she didn't run away to England," Austin added. "That freak had her convinced that she'd be betraying Johnny if she didn't help him out. God, I wish I'd just smashed EJ DiMera's face in the first time I saw him."

"You and me both," muttered Philip. "Or I wish Lucas had had better aim, at least."

Something about her children's unified defense of Sami seemed to drain Kate's energy, and she collapsed into a chair, pouring herself a glass of champagne as she did.

Philip wandered in the direction of the kitchen, presumably to send the waiter out to Kate or to ensure that the cooks had not been so unnerved by the Roberts family fight that they'd all fled the building. Austin, meanwhile, attempted to placate Kate. Lucas sidled closer to Billie.

"Have you really been in London lately?" he asked in a low voice. She was worldwide head of Titan security, so she was based out of Salem; but her first job with Titan security had been in London and her husband lived there.

"Not as much as usual," she whispered back.

"Have you… seen Sami at all? Do you know if anyone has?"

Billie's eyes were bright and kind as they locked on Lucas' own. "I check on her every month, and I know for a fact that Jack Deveraux does as well. Most of Sami's family isn't in England very often, so Jack and I send them updates."

"But nothing really changes, does it?"

"She's stable. She wakes up sometimes, but she's not aware of much. She doesn't know me, she doesn't know Jack."

Lucas stared at his feet. Billie had told him the same thing in letters—so, for that matter, had his sister Jennifer. Somehow, it was different hearing the words from Billie's lips as they stood together in a five-star restaurant. Billie wrapped an arm around Lucas and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "This is why we didn't invite Mom," she told him, as if he hadn't figured it out. "The constant comments about the awful way we've decided to raise her grandchildren are one thing, and we're used to it. But we knew she wasn't going to be able to make it through the night without starting in on Sami. She blames Sami for everything that happened to you."

"Yeah. There's a lot of that going around."

"Mom and Will. No one else believes Sami went away with him voluntarily. She loved you too much."

Lucas nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to say more, or to do anything besides continue to study the tasteful cream-colored marble dance floor of the Penthouse Grille. It was all well and good for Billie to do her sisterly duty and swear that of course Sami loved Lucas, but in his heart of hearts he wondered if Will and Kate were right. There was no way of knowing exactly what had been going on in Sami's mind when she'd gone to England with EJ. She might have felt that she was protecting Johnny. She might have thought that she was honoring Johnny by helping his father sort out some sort of legal issue—that, indeed, was the explanation she had given her family.

But she might have fallen in love with EJ. That fear had danced around the fringes of Lucas' consciousness ever since EJ had arrived in their life, and he had had to wonder more than ever when he'd learned that Sami had left the country with the man who had raped her. Sami hadn't even broken the news to him herself; Kate had done that.

"Do you want us to get rid of Mom?" Billie prompted gently.

Lucas forced a fake laugh. "As if you could."

"Hey! Don't underestimate us. Really, she deserves to be escorted out when she goes too far, and comments like that about Sami are going too far."

"It meant a lot to me that you and Philip and Austin all stood up for her. It would have meant a lot to her too."

Billie sighed. "I know. We all wish things had turned out differently, but blaming a woman who… well, tonight would probably be a better celebration for you if we all stopped talking about Sami, right?"

"No." Lucas managed to raise his head. It wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. "I don't want Sami's name to be some kind of taboo. She's Will's mother and the love of my life, and she's been in a long-term care hospital for ten years. It sucks, but I don't want everyone to freeze every time her name comes up."

"Okay." Billie looked a little happier now that that had been settled. They wandered back to the table, where Austin had carefully arranged five glasses of champagne and sparkling cider.

"Salad will be out in about five minutes," he told them. He raised his glass and gestured that the others should follow suit. "To Lucas."

"To Lucas," repeated Billie, Philip, and Kate.

The rest of the meal was almost enjoyable. Austin was funny and Kate was sardonic and Billie and Philip took a break from their ongoing argument. Will arrived in time for dessert and eager to escort Lucas to what would, at least temporarily, be his new home.

* * *

"We can walk, if that's all right with you," Will told Lucas as they left the Penthouse Grille.

"That sounds more than all right." The weird combination of ecstasy and claustrophobia provoked by the family reunion left Lucas feeling that he would be able to walk all the way to Chicago before he felt able to settle down. He hadn't seen much of Salem from the window of Philip's limousine, either, and he was interested to see more. The city had probably changed a great deal during his absence.

It didn't take long for Lucas to realize that Will was leading them into what had been the most dangerous neighborhood in Salem at the time of his arrest. The area seemed to have recovered somewhat; the cars parked along the side of the street were well cared-for, although they were far from the luxury vehicles and sports cars he was sure he would have found in Philip's garage.

"This wouldn't have been safe ten years ago," Lucas said idly.

"That's how I got the house as cheap as I did when I started my intern year. Grandma Marlena flipped out when she found out where I was living. But later she admitted that I got it at just the right time. It's perfectly safe now"

"In all your letters, you never told me you were living in a slum."

Will shrugged. "It didn't seem relevant. Anyway, Grandma _Marlena _had a problem with it. Grandma _Kate _said she lived in worse places when you were a kid."

"That's exactly why I wouldn't have wanted you living around here." He looked closely at the houses as they passed. Some were on the small side, but all looked lived-in and well-kept. Most had gardens with a few hearty flowers hanging on, waiting for one more hard frost to do them in. The sidewalk under their feet was barely visible beneath pink and yellow and green and blue chalk drawings. Some child had even sketched out a complicated game of hopscotch.  
_  
Hopscotch. Sami._

Lucas pushed the memory out of his mind. This neighborhood was full of children, and none of them were Sami or Allie or Johnny. He doubted that there were many single young professionals like Will living around here. They gravitated to condos in sexier neighborhoods.

"Why did you buy a house? You don't need the room." Lucas paused; who knew what Will had left out of the hundreds of letters he'd written in the past thirteen years? "Do you?"

Will shrugged again. "I knew I wanted to stay in Salem. And I had to do something with my money, and working all the time I didn't have that many chances to spend it. I might as well have a mortgage to make up for the student loans I don't have."

That part of the story had made it into the letters. Lucas' father and Sami's mother were both doctors, and both had been desperate to make up for the (real and perceived) ways they had failed their children by paying Will's way through medical school. Their argument over who would get the privilege of footing Will's tuition bill had reached epic proportions, but in the end they had agreed to split Will's bill and sponsor another student anonymously.

Lucas and Will turned up the driveway of a vaguely Victorian house covered with gray wooden shingles and dark green trim. Will grinned as he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and dropped it into Lucas' hand. "The one that's round on top is for the front door. The square one is for the deadbolt, but I don't usually throw that." He beamed at Lucas expectantly, and Lucas managed to keep his hand from shaking as he slipped the key into the lock.

He stopped short of turning the key.

"Is it stuck?" Will asked anxiously. "It stuck a little when it was new, but it hasn't since—"

Lucas held up his free hand for silence. "I just want you to know that I appreciate you letting me stay here until I can figure something out."

Will's face fell. "Dad, I _want _you to stay with me."

"I want to stay with you, too, Buddy. But you have your own life, and I don't want to cramp your style. When I was your age—"

"You were raising a ten-year-old."

Lucas laughed. "Point taken. But if you ever need more space, or I'm in your way, please promise to let me know."

"You were just saying it's a big house for one person."

"But it might be a small house for two people if one of them is your old man. Parents take up more than their fair share of space, you know."

Will covered Lucas' hand with his own, turned the key, and pushed the door open. "Don't worry, Dad," he said. "You'll never be Grandma Kate."

**TBC**


	5. Lucas and the Teenage Girls

**Part 5- Lucas Among Teenage Girls  
**  
It was the quiet more than the light that woke Lucas the next morning. Prison was loud. Prison was full of hard surfaces; the smallest sound carried and echoed. The guest room in Will's house seemed unnaturally, unnervingly silent.

Despite the early hour, Lucas had no desire to go back to sleep. He had to restrain himself from crossing the short hall to Will's room to remind himself that he wasn't the only person left in a post-apocalyptic world.

Prison was lonely; Lucas had been permitted minimal opportunities to communicate with his family and friends for thirteen years. Holidays, birthdays, weddings, and funerals had passed without Lucas' presence. Still, though he might have been lonely, he had rarely been _alone _in prison. There was a parade of cell mates; there was always a guard nearby. Someone was always yelling about something. Lucas and the other inmates had been herded from place to place like so many cattle.

No, the concepts of _alone _and _private _hadn't existed any more than _quiet_.

He walked around the room on bare feet. Prison hadn't had a brightly colored braided rug on the floor. (He was fairly sure that that had once belonged to Aunt Maggie. Someone had given it to Will, at any rate; there was no way his son had decided he needed an area rug and chosen one for himself.)

Prison definitely hadn't had a shelf of girlish-looking books with pastel covers: green, orange, yellow, purple. Lucas pulled the orange one into his hand at random. "Georgia's Compact, by Chelsea Fallon," he read aloud. The first page had an inscription in Chelsea's messy handwriting.

_Dear Will,_

Whatever you say, I know that you would probably rather read computer manuals with Nick than read chick lit written for twelve-year-old girls. That's okay. It only makes it mean more to me that you supported me all through this project. I've been blessed with the most amazing family, and you're a big part of that. I'm so glad you're back in Salem!

Love,

Chelsea

The green and yellow books were inscribed with similar messages from Chelsea; the inscription of the purple book ("Correspondence on Bad Ideas by Chelsea Fallon and Abigail Deveraux") was more intriguing:

_Dear Dr. Will,_

I wish you could have come to England under better circumstances. You've had a couple of really bad days, even by your/our family's standards. But I'm going to ask you for a favor anyway. When you look at this book, try not to think about why you were in London for the release party where Chelsea and I signed it for you. Instead, think of how fantastic I think you are and how honored I am that you're my cousin.

All my love,

Abby  
June 20, 2018  
London

Dear Will,

What she said.

Love,

Chelsea  
  
Lucas sighed. He hadn't known that Will had been in London two years earlier; obviously, it hadn't been a pleasure trip even before it ended with a dutiful visit to his cousins' book-signing. He thrust the book back on the shelf; he founded it suddenly repulsive. (Or at least _more _repulsive—he'd never had a particular desire to read books about teenage girls who worried about their hair and how their parents didn't like them to date axe murderers, which was what the volumes appeared to center around. Abby and Chelsea were both his nieces, so perhaps someday he would force himself to read at least the book they had co-authored. But someday wasn't now.)

The books, with their nasty reminder of how little he knew about the world that had kept turning while he'd spent his days in concrete-iron cages, were the most interesting thing in the still-quiet room. Lucas was ready for his first full day of freedom to start.

When he left his bedroom for the bathroom, though, Lucas received another nasty piece of correspondence, this time addressed to him and taped to the mirror over the sink.  
_  
Dad—_

I had to go back to work. Sorry. I'll see you this afternoon, I hope. Money, credit card, car keys, and cell phone (family numbers are programmed in) are on the kitchen table. Food in the fridge. Password to the computer is "snake." Anything you need, have me paged at the hospital.

Will 

If Lucas had had any doubt that he was now the child and Will the parent, the note would have relieved him of it.

Lucas ate breakfast and explored every inch of the house. That took about an hour.

He looked at his watch. He'd been out of prison for less than a day and he was already back to marking time.

In a futile attempt to pretend that Will actually needed him, he went grocery shopping so Will's kitchen would be more properly stocked. It appeared that Will preferred takeout and delivery to cooking, which made sense considering how much time he spent at work.

He looked at his watch again, berated himself for being an idiot, and found the checklist of things to do before and after leaving prison that had been provided to him the previous afternoon. Philip and Will had done everything for him. He even had his own bank account in his own name thanks to a small stipend that Victor's will had specified should be paid to him upon his release.

When he looked at his watch for the third time, he seriously considered reading Abby and Chelsea's awful-looking books. Wayward teenagers were lucky. They were a good topic for candy-colored prepubescent best sellers, and if they were completely at loose ends, at least the Horton Center would take them in.

Lucas grabbed his jacket and keys.

He hoped the Horton Center still existed.

* * *

A bright-eyed, dark-haired pixie of a girl bounced up to the door and opened it. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Lucas.

_"Oh_," she said. Her eyes grew wider and a grin split her face. "I know who _you _are."

"Then you have the advantage," Lucas told her.

She waltzed around him, raking her eyes over every inch of his body as if he were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. "What's prison like?" she asked eagerly, not bothering to identify herself.

"Cold," he told her. "Kind of like standing on the front step in October when someone hasn't invited you inside."

"Sorry," she chirped, but he didn't think she seemed especially ashamed. "Come in." He followed her inside gratefully.

Like everything else in Salem, the Horton Center had been refurbished since Lucas had last visited. His own photograph still sat amidst the collection on the mantelpiece, however. There was also a photograph of the young teenager who stared at him with such avid interest. Her arms were wrapped around Bo Brady's neck, and her cheek was pressed into his graying beard.

Lucas smiled slowly. "You're Ciara. Bo and Hope's daughter."

The girl—Ciara— sighed and threw her head back, flinging her arm over her eyes and staggering sideways to drape herself onto the back of the couch. "Bo and Hope's daughter," she repeated. "Claire's aunt, Chelsea Fallon's sister. Why can't anyone just leave it at _Ciara_?"

She punctuated her statement with a broad, vague gesture which caused her to lose her balance and fall from the back of the couch with a shriek and a thud. Lucas rushed forward and fell to his knees beside her. "Are you all right?" he asked frantically.

"Ci?" called a voice from upstairs. Bare feet ran down the hall and jumped over the last five steps before sprinting to Ciara's side.

Giggling ensued, so Lucas assumed that no permanent damage had been done.

The new arrival was a little older and a little taller than Ciara. Her strawberry-blonde curls were pulled back from her face in a French braid. She smiled as she noticed Lucas for the first time.

"You're my Uncle Lucas, aren't you?" she asked as the three of them climbed to their feet. "I'm Claire Brady, and I apologize for letting my _aunt _answer the door when she's in a mood."

Ciara giggled some more.

"It's nice to meet you, Claire," Lucas told her. "We've met before, but I don't think you'd remember."

Claire shook her head. "Not really, but my parents have told me all about you, and of course Will's my doctor. One of them."

"You have more than one doctor?"

"I had a liver transplant when I was a baby. I get lots of checkups to make sure I don't suddenly reject it or something," said Claire matter-of-factly. "Aunt Julie and Aunt Maggie are going to be so happy to see you. They should be back soon. They were who you were coming to see, right?"

"Right," said Lucas, because he couldn't very well tell an impressionable young girl that her storied "Uncle" Lucas had been so dulled by his long incarceration that on his first day of freedom he had nothing to do and no one to see.

"Can I get you anything? A drink? We made chocolate-chip cookies this morning."

"I'm fine."

"Want to help us with the Halloween party masks?" asked Ciara. Claire sent her a scolding look. _"What_? We have to do it on our day off from school. He doesn't have to go back to school tomorrow, so he shouldn't mind."

"We agreed to do it because we're happy to help the Horton Foundation," said Claire primly.

Ciara brushed this detail off as unimportant. "Maybe he's happy to help the Horton Foundation, too."

"I'd love to help if I can. I used to be in charge of administering the Tom and Alice Horton Fund, but that was before either of you were born." Saying it out loud drove home how very old he was. Ciara had barely started walking and talking when he'd left for prison, and now she had a whole life which included, at minimum, school, volunteer work, and asking hideously inappropriate questions of recently released felons.

"You don't have to," Claire said, brushing her hand against his own in a reassuring gesture that turned his stomach with its innocence. "You can come up and just hang out until Aunt Maggie and Aunt Julie get here. Are you sure you don't want any cookies? I'll bring them up just in case."

Sensing it would be fruitless to argue, Lucas accompanied Claire, Ciara, and the cookies upstairs.

The entire floor of the largest bedroom was coated with feathers, glitter, beads, sequins, ribbons, paint, glue, and who-knew-what else. As chaotic as it looked, though, Lucas soon saw that Claire and Ciara had a plan and a system. The masks, he learned, would be distributed to everyone who tried to enter the Horton Foundation's Halloween Fundraiser without one. ("You'd think it would be cheaper to buy them in bulk from the Halloween store at Salem Place, but it's not.")

He noticed that this bedroom, like his room at Will's house, had a shelf which proudly displayed a set of Chelsea's books.

"Have you read those?" he asked the girls, once he'd run out of things to say about their artistic talents and how good it was of them to give up their day off from school to help out a great cause like the Horton Foundation.

"Everyone has," Ciara told him. "Everyone at school is always saying stupid things about how it feels like Georgia—that's the girl in Chelsea's books—is talking just to them. You should see some of the letters Chelsea gets, girls telling her she saved their lives with her books. Then Dad says Shawn is out saving lives as a cop, and Chelsea is changing the world with her writing, and I should stop being the failure of the family."

Lucas couldn't imagine Bo saying anything like that, but his thoughts were over-ridden by Claire's "You know that's not what Grandpa said."

Ciara didn't argue the point; she was still relaxed and smiling amidst a sea of glitter and sequins. "Whatever."

"Anyway," said Claire, "the books are semi-autobiographical, I guess. Georgia finds out she was adopted when her parents die, and she goes all badass when she meets her biological family. I think Georgia's more badass than Aunt Chelsea was, but I don't really remember Aunt Chelsea as a kid."

Lucas wasn't sure what to say next. _"Does the biological mother end up sleeping with Georgia's boyfriend?"_ and _"Does Georgia accidentally kill her little brother?" _came to mind, but if those things didn't happen it probably wasn't his place to tell Claire and Ciara that they might have.

What did one talk about when conversing with teenage girls? He'd never spent much time with teenage girls… except for when he'd been a teenage boy. (With a jolt, he realized that Sami hadn't been any older than Claire when she'd snuck backstage at a Cherish concert so long ago.) Then, girls had been pretty, sexy things he'd wanted. Now, Claire and Ciara were small children. He could barely believe that Julie and Maggie had left them alone. He was half-surprised when they answered his questions, as if he couldn't quite accept that someone so young should be capable of something like speech.

Soon, though, it became quite obvious that Ciara and Claire were essentially bilingual. They spoke polite English to him, and they chattered to each other in a bizarre shorthand that included not a little giggling. They had an entire culture of which he was completely unaware, but of which Chelsea's books were clearly indicative.

He wondered if Claire and Ciara would have seemed so foreign if he'd spent the past thirteen years raising Allie instead of rotting in a cell.

Would Allie have liked Chelsea's books?

Would Allie have volunteered at the Horton Center?

Would Allie have found pleasure in transforming these immeasurable mountains of color and sparkle onto masks?

Would Allie have been friends with her cousins, Ciara and Claire?

Would Allie have shared Ciara's flair for the dramatic? Or Claire's solicitousness?

Might Johnny have come along to help? Or perhaps he would have been with Tyler, wherever he was?

For his own sanity, Lucas had not allowed himself to think about this kind of thing while he'd been in prison. Feelings were kept at arm's length if one wanted to survive behind bars. But it was harder to stop himself from going down that path when he was presented with two living, breathing examples of what might have been.

Had her hair stayed blonde like Sami's and Claire's?

Or had it darkened like his and Ciara's?

His own breath caught in his throat, and it was good luck that Julie and Maggie chose that moment to storm upstairs, muttering invectives against a caterer as they did. The previous night's experiences with Billie and Kate had prepared him for what came next—hugs, tears, and expressions of love.

"And poor little Allie and Johnny," said Julie when the initial greetings were done. "So help me, Lucas, as much as you were punished for protecting your family, you should have gotten to kill the bastard!"

Ciara's bright eyes sparkled with interest; Claire was more subtle, but she, too, was clearly fascinated. Julie waved a hand in their direction. "There will be no repeating that to any police officers or former police officers, even though it's true." Then she grabbed Lucas by the arm, leaving Maggie behind to check on the status of the teenagers' work.

"That seems to be a popular opinion," Lucas said when they were away from impressionable young ears. "That I should have had better aim."

"There should have been more than three guns pointed at that man—and I use the term loosely—when he married Sami," Julie corrected. "One of us would have made a proper job of it."

His panic over his daughter's fate retreated to the back of his heart where he usually kept it, and he seized on a safer emotion: bemused disbelief. "I don't think many people get out of prison and come back to families who say 'I wish you'd gotten away with it, and I wish you'd done worse.'"

"You weren't the average convict. And we aren't the average family."

**TBC**


	6. Halloween

**Part 6- Halloween**

The first two weeks that followed his father's release from prison both flew and dragged for Will. They flew with excitement and busyness. Work was full of the usual patients as well as the seasonal panic over flu shots and more teaching responsibilities (the hospital was suddenly crawling with students and interns) than he'd ever had before. And for the first time in his adult life, Will had someone waiting for him at home and depending on him, too.

Perhaps it wasn't fair that he saw Lucas as depending on him; Lucas was more than capable of taking care of himself. Will doubted that he himself could have lasted thirteen days in prison, let alone thirteen years. But while Lucas was obviously in good health—talking and joking, cooking and lifting weights, politely interacting with anyone who visited, going in and out of their house—there was something empty and vacant in his eyes. That emptiness frightened Will, and he didn't know how to fix it. He couldn't give back the lifetime his foolish, flighty mother had cost his father.

That was why the days dragged even as they passed quickly.

Luckily, Halloween fell on one of those cool, crisp, clear autumn days that made almost everyone feel a little bit better about the state of the world. Will hoped that the holiday would lift some of the proverbial weight off of his father's shoulders. Or was that too much to wish for, when a hero's welcome from an adoring family hadn't made Lucas truly happy even for a moment? Good weather and a party weren't likely to alter the state of mind of a man who had spent thirteen years in hell.

Reflexively, Will checked his email as he got ready to leave for the Horton Center. There was a message from Theo; he and Jett had toured Italy, Austria, and France, and had been crossing the English Channel as Theo wrote. Will quickly forwarded Abby's contact information, as well as Aunt Jennifer's and Uncle Jack's, just in case Theo found himself in trouble in London.

Will made a face.

He despised London and all it represented—except for Jack and Jennifer and Abby and JJ and Billie, of course.

He was still scowling when he found Lucas filling an enormous bowl with enough candy to feed a small army.

Lucas glanced up from his task with concern. "What's the matter, Buddy?"

Will was sorely tempted to explain exactly what had happened the last time he'd visited Sami, but what came out of his mouth, quite unexpectedly, almost pleadingly, was "Do you remember the year Mom chased the other parents with a knife at my class Halloween party?"

"How could I forget? There were food fights in prison that weren't as violent as that one. I guess it must've scarred you for life."

"Not really," Will admitted. "I thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone back then. But now it's almost… well, it's funny. I tell that story to my patients all the time, and they mostly don't believe me. And I accuse them of belittling the happiest memory of my childhood, and they still don't believe me." He stole a peanut butter cup from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.

"The happiest memory of your childhood? I don't know if _I _believe that one."

"Maybe not the happiest. But it was a really happy time, that whole year."

"Except for the demented murderer who turned out to be your brainwashed grandmother killing half of our family who turned out not to be dead."

"Except for that. Dad, you know what I mean. That was when it was you and me and Mom and we all loved each other, even if you and Mom couldn't admit how much you cared. I wanted the two of you to be together so much, and I was sure it would happen sooner or later. I thought that if we all tried hard enough, we'd make everything work. If we could all be on the same side in a food fight even if my parents were mad at each other and I was dying of embarrassment, that was just a sign of better things to come. Silly, huh?"

"Not silly. I'm sorry we never made it work."

"Well, it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't anyone's fault."

Will thought otherwise, but he didn't bother saying so aloud. His father would defend his mother; he always did. Will wondered how his father could harbor so little anger when he had lost so much.

"It _wasn't_, Will," Lucas repeated in the face of Will's unspoken demurral. "Blame the damn DiMera family, and Elvis, if you have to blame someone. Don't blame your mother. She and I had our problems and unfortunately we put you in the middle of it, but it's not fair to say she somehow brought this down on us. She wanted to protect us and I wanted to protect us and we both messed up."

Will shrugged, still not wanting to have this conversation. "Remember that devil costume I had when I was a kid? One of Max and Morgan's kids is wearing it to the party tonight."

Lucas accepted the abrupt change of subject without comment. "I always liked that. I had a devil costume once, too…"

The conversation remained inconsequential until they arrived at the Horton Center.

* * *

Claire and Ciara were small but determined sentinels posted on either side of the front door. Their own masks were little more than glittery circles around their eyes and did nothing to disguise their identities. That was part of what made them so effective. Claire, like her mother had been at the same age, was the closest thing Salem had to royalty. Everyone knew her; she was confident in their adoration and comfortable in any sort of company. She greeted each arrival with a brilliant smile.

A "put on your mask, please, and we have some here if you've forgotten it," from Claire earned delighted, instant compliance from all; from almost anyone else, it would have earned periodic scoffs or sneers. And Ciara, a jittery package of energy, made certain that no one slipped past without notice.

Will's vaguely lizard-like mask covered most of his face; Lucas had chosen a rubber monster mask that covered his head entirely. Nonetheless, Claire and Ciara knew them at once, accepted their checks made out to the Horton Foundation, and waved them inside.

The party was in full swing. The sounds of music and dancing drifted up from the basement, while dozens of masked conversations took place on the slightly calmer first floor. Games for the youngest attendees seemed to be taking place in the kitchen.

Will was instantly dragged in one direction and Lucas allowed himself to be pushed in another. Without Will beside him, Lucas was almost anonymous, never mind that he was related to at least half of the partygoers by proxy if not by blood.

Anonymity was no burden. When Lucas had first come to Salem as a young man, he'd liked nothing better than creative eavesdropping. He was much older and at least slightly wiser now, but the thrill he felt when he learned something he wasn't meant to know had never quite disappeared.

In the next fifteen minutes, he learned that Kate was far from the only person in Salem who was certain that Chelsea was pregnant and lying about it; he learned that half of the boys at Salem High School had asked Claire out and that the other half were too much in awe to do so; he learned that a torrid affair had recently taken place between the mayor and his sister-in-law; and he learned that University Hospital was rumored to have hidden a dozen poisonous snakes in an office at great risk to patient safety.

He, too, was a popular topic of discussion.

_"Of course Lucas Horton is one of these Hortons!"_

"No, he never even denied he shot the guy. Did thirteen years and just got out."

"He's probably here somewhere tonight. Everyone's wearing masks."

Lucas considered ripping off his mask and yelling "boo!" when he heard this last, but he decided against it. The party was, after all, a fundraiser, and he doubted that an appearance by the ex-convict black sheep of the Horton family would do much to fill the Horton Foundation's coffers. This realization temporarily soured him on the idea of further eavesdropping on strangers. Instead, he slunk toward a pair of familiar figures.

"There." Belle was pointing at entrance to the basement dance floor.

"That's not him."

"Yes, it is."

Lucas followed their gaze to a small, lanky figure slumped sullenly near the door.

Philip sighed. "You're right, that's him. He's not even trying to enjoy himself. Maybe you should have let him stay home."

Belle shook her head vehemently. "He told me that this is 'Claire and Ciara's thing,' not his. This is his family, too. I'm not going to let him get into the habit of thinking it isn't."

"What's Shawn say?"

"Stakeout."

"Still?"

"Still."

"Probably the DiMeras," Philip growled so softly that Lucas could barely make out his words. "There was a problem on the docks last week, too."

"You don't really think that was the DiMera family making a move, do you? It could have been a misunderstanding."

"Or it could have been them making a statement because they know I finally got my brother out of prison after they kept him there for thirteen years. I've proved to them who's in charge of those docks and I'll do it again. They'll know that I'm as strong a man as my father and that they can't push my family around."

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you," said Belle with a hint of anger in her voice. "I think what you meant to say is that you want to run your business without problems for its own sake, and that you wanted your brother out of prison for his own sake, not that this is all about proving to the DiMeras and anyone else you come across that you can one-up them."

"That's what I said," agreed Philip.

Just then, Claire came streaking by. She pulled up abruptly when she noticed Philip and Belle and gave each a kiss on the cheek, then bounced over a table, twisting a bit in the air as she did.

"Has she brought the diving meet schedule home yet?" Philip asked as Claire landed lightly on her feet.

"I'll make sure you get it when she does. There's no way Shawn and I are going to be the only ones sitting there wondering if this is going to be the day she breaks her neck every time she jumps."

Before Belle could respond, Claire was back, dragging a reluctant Tyler by the hand. She gave Philip and Belle another wave as she pulled Tyler toward the front door, where Ciara was still bouncily greeting the newcomers and attempting to dissuade those who would leave.

"How's he supposed to not feel overshadowed, always being compared to hurricane Claire and Ciara?" Belle murmured. "You're right, I should have let him stay home. I remember, growing up, sometimes I just didn't want to be associated with Carrie or Eric or Brady… or Sami… all the time."

"No, you were right. He has to learn…"

Precisely what Philip felt Tyler had to learn, Lucas didn't hear. Surreptitiously listening in on Philip and Belle's problems of career and family—the exact problems he and Sami had once hoped to have—left him feeling more disconnected from the world around him than ever.

Like Tyler, he didn't quite fit.

He removed his mask and waited for someone to drag him away the way Claire had done with her brother.

He did not let himself look too long at the obviously alcoholic beverages being consumed in the corner.

_**TBC**_


	7. November 8

**Part 7—November 8**

Lucas had been married three times, and had had a few weddings that didn't result in marriage to boot. If he thought about it, he could remember the dates of his various anniversaries.

He didn't have to think about it to remember that November 8 was the day Sami married Elvis DiMera and Lucas had made a decision that kept him in a cage for thirteen long years.

It was the story of his life that another man's marriage had had more of an effect on him than any of his own ever did. As a young man, he had wasted hour after hour trying to dismantle Austin and Carrie's relationship when he could have been building a future with Sami. As a middle-aged man, he never passed a November 8 with anything but regret, and it wasn't even his own actions he regretted most.

Will had all but raised himself. There had been a little help from Austin, who had been willing not to visit the sins of the father upon the son, but nothing from Lucas.

Allie and Johnny might be anywhere. They might be in pain. They might be dead. Lucas could do nothing to comfort or teach or protect them. A dozen skilled professional investigators were straining to discover the twins' whereabouts, but that team had been put together and paid for by Philip.

Sami was unconscious nine days out of ten in a long-term care facility on the other side of the world. Lucas hadn't seen her since the first days of his incarceration. He hadn't seen her at all since her illness had begun. Billie visited Sami, but Lucas didn't.

November 8, 2007. That had been the day that Lucas had given up on Will, Allie, Johnny, and Sami and had let Austin, Billie, and Philip take over his duties to his family.

It was always about someone else. It was never about Lucas. Just about the only thing that had ever been about Lucas was his relationship with alcohol.

Will didn't keep alcohol in his home. He had toyed with drinking as a teenager, around the time Sami had announced her intention to divorce Lucas and marry EJ, but as an adult he had cut it out of his life entirely. Will's earliest childhood had been colored by Lucas' battle with alcoholism, and he knew from Billie that addiction ran in their family.

Will didn't know about the bottle of red wine Lucas had hidden in his room like an errant child. Will was at the hospital, soothing some poor woman through brain surgery, and he didn't see Lucas take the wine out of his bedroom and carry it to the kitchen.

Red wine had never been Lucas' poison of choice in the old days. That had been vodka, beer, vodka, scotch, vodka, vodka, and vodka. But something about the bottle of wine had called to him, so he had taken it home and secreted it away. Now he poured it into a glass and looked at the brilliant color in the late morning sunlight.

(Why Will owned wineglasses, Lucas wasn't sure. They had probably been a gift, like most of the house's furnishings. All of Will's substantial extended family liked to dote on poor Will with the drunken incarcerated father, vegetable mother, and permanently missing siblings.)

"To you, Sami," Lucas said, and raised the glass to the window. Then he poured its contents down the sink.

He refilled the glass. "To you, Dr. Will. Best damn kid a fool like me ever had." Will's glass followed Sami's down the sink.

The third glass was for Allie. "To my smart, scheming little girl. Wherever you are, I hope you're happy even if it can't be with me." The formerly pristine sink was now coated with red liquid, and the bottle was half empty. But there was enough to fill a fourth glass for Johnny.

"Johnny, I know you're taking after your mother and taking care of your sister. I think about you even though I know you don't ever think about me." Johnny's wine went after Allie's.

There was about a glass left in the bottle, so he filled the glass a final time with a shrug.

"To me, the ex-husband and dead beat dad," he proclaimed.

Then he went to dispose of the bottle in the neighbor's garbage and to bleach the red stain out of the white sink before Will came home and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

* * *

Will had woken up that morning feeling tense and grumpy for no reason at all. It wasn't until he reached the hospital and noticed the date on his first patient's chart that he remembered what November 8 meant.

It meant his mother choosing a man who had raped her over her son and the man she sworn to love forever a scant six months before.

It meant a father in prison and siblings he didn't know.

It meant the end of his childhood and the end of the hopes he'd cherished all his life until that day. It meant that Will realized exactly where he ranked on his mother's list of priorities.

She'd worn a black dress as some kind of protest. A better protest might have been refusing to go through with the marriage at all. But that wasn't what Sami had done.

Will took a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady and center himself. The last thing he wanted to do was take out his anger and resentment on his patients.

The first three appointments went well. The fourth and fifth were more difficult, but it wasn't until they were completed that it was time to face the worst part of his day.

Cora Fein had been one of his patients ever since he'd had patients. She was grandmotherly in a sweet sort of way, as opposed to grandmotherly in his Grandma Kate's sort of way. At her last appointment, he had been forced to refer her to a specialist who had diagnosed carotid stenosis and recommended surgery to reduce the risk of a stroke. Her surgery was scheduled for today, and he had promised to visit her before the procedure began.

"Damn," he whispered as he glanced at his watch and headed for the neurology department. He had wanted to arrive before Mrs. Fein did. He had been her primary care physician for years and his was a familiar face to her. She'd only met her neurosurgeon a couple of times; they probably hadn't had a chance to develop much of a rapport.

He heard her voice as he jogged down the corridor. "It's not definite that I'd get a stroke, anyway, is it? I could have a stroke on the operating table, too. I don't want to tempt fate is all."

"Don't be stupid," retorted another voice._ Stupid? Who calls names when someone is afraid to get surgery she needs?!_

Will threw open the door and had sent his mother's best death glare across the room before he even realized that the object of his ire was none other than Joy Wesley.

It took all of Will's self-control not to tell Joy off then and there. He was able to do it only because obvious dissent between her usual doctor and a member of her surgical team would further upset Mrs. Fein.

"Dr. Wesley, will you be assisting Dr. Karlin with Mrs. Fein's surgery?" Will asked, making a herculean effort to sound nonchalant. He didn't think Joy was fooled, but Mrs. Fein gave him a shaky smile that didn't come close to hitting her eyes.

"Mrs. Fein tells me she doesn't want surgery," said Joy with a sneer. Each word came in a clipped staccato. "Mrs. Fein only came in to tell us that in person. After the operating room and four doctors who could have been helping other patients were reserved for her."

Mrs. Fein turned wide, furtive eyes in Will's direction. "Dr. Horton, this seems… severe for a preventative measure, doesn't it?"

Will sat down so that he and Mrs. Fein would be face to face and his back would be to Joy. "Well," he said gently, "like I told you, and like Dr. Karlin probably told you, we think that not having the surgery is more dangerous than having it. I know you decided that, too."

"I did, but… I just don't know how I can go through with it."

"Dr. Karlin and Dr. Stone and Dr. Wesley will do all the hard work. You'll sleep through everything."

Mrs. Fein cast a worried glance at Joy, who was pacing around and muttering under her breath. "Isn't she awfully young to be a doctor?"

Joy whirled around. Her face flushed nearly as red as her hair. "I graduated from Harvard Medical School. There were dozens of hospitals who wanted me—hundreds. I didn't even have to go to them, they came to—"

"Yes, she's young, but she's very skilled. She'll be assisting Dr. Karlin, not leading your team. But if you're really uncomfortable with her, we can get another doctor." He raised his hand to prevent Joy from exploding that the dynamics of scheduling surgeries were just slightly less arcane than quantum physics and they _couldn't _get another doctor at the last minute.

"No—no, if you have faith in her, I do."

"I have complete confidence in Dr. Wesley," Will confirmed. "Now we just have to decide if surgery is what you want after all."

Mrs. Fein was silent.

"I know it's a big deal to you, but it's a routine procedure to Dr. Karlin." Will paused to wonder where Dr. Karlin was. Had he really thought it was a good idea to send Joy in his place to a pre-operation meeting?

"You still think I should have the surgery?"

Will nodded. "I still do, and Dr. Karlin and Dr. Wesley do as well."

"A—all right, then."

Mrs. Fein was promptly hustled away, amidst promises from Will that he would see her again as soon as she awoke. Joy headed for the door as well, but Will grabbed her by the arm.

Joy shook her arm out of Will's grasp. "Yes, Dr. Horton?" she asked with a clearly discernable trace of sarcasm.

"In the future, when a patient has second thoughts about a procedure, it might be more productive to answer her questions and reassure her than to tell her she's stupid."

Joy rolled her eyes. "Baby-sitting hasn't been my job since I was twelve years old. She wasn't listening to me, anyway."

"Sometimes it's more important to listen to her than to get her to listen to you. You've done this before, but it's a big deal for her. She wasn't going to back out. She wouldn't have come in at all if she was. She just needed a little encouragement instead of a rant about how she was inconveniencing her Harvard-educated doctor who has a schedule to keep."

"I guess schedules aren't very important over on the medical side of things, but unless you want to do the surgery yourself—do you have any idea what that entails?—you're going to have to cut your lecture short and let me go."

Will did.

He reminded himself for at least the tenth time that day that it wasn't a good idea to pound his head against the wall while he was working.

* * *

The date was November 8. Allie had marked it on her calendar; it was the anniversary of the day her guardian had married her late mother.

Her guardian thought that she marked it down so she would remember to wish him a happy anniversary and give him a card she'd drawn, or a gift she'd arranged for one of the servants to purchase. It was just as well that he thought that. It was brilliant that he thought that.

Sometimes she was so clever she amazed herself.

In truth, she has marked it down out of anticipation.

When she'd been smaller—way back when her guardian's son, Johnny, had lived with them year-round and not just when he was on holiday—she had dreaded this day. She and Johnny had both dreaded it, knowing as they did that Johnny's father would be moody and short-tempered and more than a bit scary on November 8.

But now she was older and knew something very important: her guardian's distraction could be used to her advantage.

Without exception, he became progressively more frustrated and anxious as the day wore on. Eventually, he left the house and didn't return until the early hours of the next morning. She wouldn't be left alone, as there were always servants about, but no one would be watching her every move the way her guardian did.

For one day out of the year, she would be free to move around without an escort and without anyone asking why or where. London was a big, beautiful city, and all she ever seemed to see was the inside of her guardian's townhouse. When he was on holiday, Johnny visited with all sorts of stories of school and classmates. Allie knew little more than four walls.

But with her guardian gone, she could enter his bedroom, push up the window (the windows in her room opened only a crack) and crawl out onto the roof. She wasn't sure that she'd be able to get down to street level, or get back up when the day was done, but if not she could at least enjoy the view from the roof.

Operating under the assumption that the oldest tricks in the book were the oldest tricks in the book for a reason, Allie piled two pillows under her quilt. She found a doll whose hair was almost the same blonde as her own and tucked it under the quilt as well. She arranged for a few locks of blonde hair to peek out.

She stood in the doorway and looked over her work. In her opinion, it was very convincing. But she didn't think anyone was likely to open her door. The more obsequious servants were busy worrying about their master's annual dark day; the rest, like Allie, were pleased to take a break from their usual responsibilities.

Allie made it onto the roof with no trouble at all. November was a cold, dark month, so it wasn't especially pleasant to be outside, but the thrill of a new experience more than compensated for the watery non-sunlight of the season. She had quietly climbed to her feet, ready to evaluate possible routes to the ground, when she was filled with a horrible, prickling sensation that she was not alone.

Her first thought was that her guardian must pay for a guard to sit on the roof. But her second thought was that this man was far too haphazard in appearance to be in EJ DiMera's employ. His trainers were scuffed; his jeans looked dirty; and his face wasn't nearly threatening enough.

Her third thought was that he was gorgeous. He was a very young man with black hair and coffee-colored skin. He moved across the roof with grace, energy, and a complete lack of concern. Apparently, it was all the same to him whether he travelled over solid ground or a slippery roof high in the air.

He didn't see her until after she'd gotten over her surprise (and she _was _over her surprise, her heart _always _pounded like that).

"Hello," he said softly, and there was something funny about his voice.

"Hello."

"Come here often?" he asked, and then she knew what was funny about his voice. He had an American accent. Allie liked the way it sounded. Her mother had been American, after all. The accent made the man even cuter than he'd been already.

She was torn between telling him she came up here all the time because she was incredibly sophisticated and athletic and all of that, and telling him that she had run away from her horrible former stepfather and couldn't he take her wherever he was going.

She must have waited too long to make a decision. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Her eyes filled with tears. This was the only man she'd ever met without her guardian's knowledge, and he was gorgeous, and she'd made a fool of herself. Not only that, but EJ was sure to find out, and when he knew she'd been talking to a strange man without permission, it was sure to turn into one of those nights when he stood too close and touched too long and she was much too conscious of that thing between his thighs.

Allie stepped backward once, then twice.

"You're going to fall!" said the visitor with real alarm. Indeed, she had started to stumble toward the edge of the roof, and it was only the stranger's hands on her hips that kept her steady and upright. "How did you get up here?" he questioned with real gentleness.

Numbly, Allie pointed at her guardian's bedroom window. "Maybe we better get you back there?" Gently, step by step, he helped her inside. He took a curious look at the somber, drab decor as he did. "I hope this isn't your room," he said with definite teasing.

"It's my guardian's," she mumbled, finding her voice at last.

"Take it from someone who snuck out of the house a time or two when he was your age. Always go out your own window."

"My window doesn't open," she told him for no apparent reason.

"Why not?"

"I'm not supposed to leave without my guardian."

"Is your guardian a Mr. DiMera?"

Allie nodded, wondering how he'd known. But before she could ask, she heard the voices of servants beyond the closed door.

_"I'm telling you, the draft is coming from—"_

"Go!" Allie ordered. "If you don't work for him and he finds you, he'll—"

But the man was already gone. Allie dove under the bed just as the door opened.  
_  
"See? The window's open."_

"If the window is open in Mr. DiMera's room, that's because Mr. DiMera wants it that way. No business of yours to change it."  
  
They left.

Allie shook with exhilaration, fear, and relief under the bed.

_**TBC**_


	8. A Misleading Name

**Part 8- Crisis**

It was tradition at Salem University Hospital for the young residents to bring lunch to the med students who were watching surgery from the observation room for the first time. It was also tradition for the residents to take bets on who would throw up as soon as they smelled the food, who would just be grateful and dig into the free meal, and who would fall somewhere in between. Will had always filled out the bingo-like card Dr. Poplar made up for that purpose, but so far he'd never come close to winning. This year, though, he had spent much more time with the students than he ever had before. He just might come out of the betting pool with a few dollars and, more importantly, bragging rights.

Unfortunately, the students were to observe a "straightforward" neurosurgical procedure. This was problematic for two reasons. First, the surgery in question had a rather lower gross-out factor than other procedures the students might have been told to attend. Second, the star of the hospital's neurology department, which was rapidly becoming more and more well-renowned, was Dr. Joel Karlin. Naturally, Dr. Karlin was almost always assisted by the hospital's prized recruit, Joy Wesley.

Will hadn't spoken to Joy since their argument over Cora Fein's surgery. Mrs. Fein had come through the surgery with flying colors and was recuperating as well as could possibly be expected. The procedure had been a complete success; Will had visited her several times and she had never failed to express her gratitude to him. That only made him more irritated with Joy. Why had she insisted on attacking when a few words of reassurance would have meant the world to such a kind, harmless woman?

He hoped that watching Joy work wouldn't make him lose his appetite. The residents would be providing pizza, meatball subs, tacos, Indian food, Chinese food, fried fish, and fried chicken. Someone had been dispatched to each of fast food establishments adjacent to the hospital.

When Will arrived carrying one Hawaiian pizza and one chicken alfredo pizza, most of the table was already covered with the other residents' contributions. Some of the students were looking a little green already, and Dr. Karlin hadn't even arrived.

Will helped himself to a carton of orange beef. Chinese takeout had always been one of his particular favorites.

Below them, Dr. Karlin entered the room accompanied by Joy and two nurses. The procedure began.

The white carton grew cold and forgotten in Will's hands as he watched. It was easy to see why Dr. Karlin so preferred Joy's assistance to that of more experienced doctors. She anticipated his every instruction. Each instrument she touched became an extension of her hand, as if hand and tool had never been meant to exist without one another.

He stood unmoving until the surgery was completed with a distinct lack of flourish but an equally distinct air of artistry. Neurosurgery was far from Will's specialty, but he knew full well that he had just witnessed the nearest thing to perfection it was possible to achieve.

He set the untouched carton of food on the table and fled the room, barely acknowledging Dr. Poplar's call of "Will—you won the pool!" The bragging rights and the cash prize were far from his mind. He needed to find Joy and apologize for snapping at her over Mrs. Fein's procedure. After watching her work, he understood why so many people were willing to give her so much leeway.

She really was _that _good.

She was still flushed and sweating from exertion when he saw her.

"Joy."

She glanced at him coolly. It was disconcerting in contrast with her disheveled, exhausted appearance. "Will."

"I was watching your surgery with the students—"

"And you thought that I didn't make pleasant enough small talk with the patient even though he was unconscious and I had other things to do, like save his life?"

Now Will remembered why he wasn't going to apologize, and why paying Joy a compliment she deserved didn't seem like the best possible idea.

"And I won the puking betting pool, so thank you."

"So I saved a life and you get to brag about predicting the bodily functions of a bunch of not very bright students. Sounds about right."

Will opened his mouth to tell Joy that she was a brilliant surgeon and didn't need to attack anyone else to prove it when his eye fell on unexpected movement down the hall near the lab. It was his cousin Nick, and Nick was flirting with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed middle-aged woman who most definitely was not Chelsea. "What's he doing?"

Joy rolled her eyes. "So you're another one of the Hortons who doesn't think Nick should be allowed to make his own decisions or have any fun when he and Chelsea are practically divorced?"

"Nick loves Chelsea. Always has, always will," said Will automatically. His family was full of "always have, always will." It was only his parents who hadn't managed to keep that going.

"Whatever." Joy stalked off without another word; Nick and the woman vanished into the lab. Will was suddenly alone, and with nothing else to do, he headed home.

He could hear the clanking of the exercise machines he had installed in one of his spare bedrooms even before he opened the front door. His hours at the hospital were so unpredictable that working out at the Salem Health Club had become almost impossible, and he had indulged himself by creating his own private gym. The fact that his father enjoyed it pleased him to no end.

Lucas noticed Will almost before he entered the gym and beckoned him toward the bench. "Spot me."

Will obeyed happily. This was the kind of thing he had missed most when Lucas had gone to prison, and it was something that they could still do together.

They didn't talk much as Lucas finished his workout. Will teased that Lucas was getting old; Lucas returned that he could still take Will any time, any place, any way.

"Your turn," Lucas said, pointing at the bench and indicating that he would spot Will. Will hadn't really intended to work out himself, but it seemed as good a way as any to get rid of the irritation brought on by talking to Joy.

He lay down and began his first set.

Will's muscles loosened and his lips followed suit. In between sets, he found himself telling Lucas all about the day's events at work.

"… And I can't believe I almost apologized to Joy. Joy's the most arrogant, conceited, spoiled doctor I've ever seen. I'm not even sure I want to be an attending if it means I have to get along with Joy."

He glanced at Lucas, expecting a show of sympathy, and was furious to see a smirk playing about the corners of his father's lips. "What?" Will demanded.

"I notice that I hear a lot of Joy, Joy, Joy when you talk about work."

"It's a very misleading name," Will muttered.

"You're sure you don't have a crush?"

Will let the weights fall back into place with a bang and leapt to his feet. "I'm absolutely, positively sure I don't have a crush on anyone. And if I was interested in someone, it would not be Joy Wesley."

"Who would it be?"

Will shrugged. "No one. At least, not someone who thinks she's always right and wants to be in control of everything no matter what it does to everyone else. Not someone who would destroy everything around her." He was surprised at the venom of his own words.

The teasing atmosphere of camaraderie vanished from the room as Lucas sighed and leaned against the stationary bicycle. "I think it's time we talked about your mother," he said quietly.

"We've talked about Mom lots of times," Will said lightly, but Lucas was unmoved.

"Not really, we haven't. You're still so angry at her for divorcing me to marry EJ."

"And for not doing anything to help you get out of prison, and for taking the twins away, and for letting EJ pretend to be their father. So what? I think a better question is, why aren't you angry at her?"

"I was." This was confessed so quietly that Will almost didn't hear it even though he was standing short inches away.

"And now?" Will prompted unwillingly, just to get this over with.

"Now it's been thirteen years, and I don't want to waste any more time being angry."

That was insulting. "I'm not wasting my time. It's not like I sit around and think about how awful Mom is."

"But you do let your mother's mistakes stop you from falling in love yourself."

Most of Will's extended family was inordinately concerned with his lack of a social life, and he was well-used to deflecting those criticisms. "Just because I'm not dating anyone right now—"

Lucas didn't even let him get started. "In all your letters, you never sounded really interested in any of the girls you mentioned. And now you're accusing Joy Wesley of destroying everything around her."

"You don't know Joy."

"I know that out of all the things she could have done with her life, she chose to become a doctor, the same way you did."

Will rolled his eyes. "Money and glory."

"She inherited a lot of money from Nancy's parents, didn't she?"

"Glory, then." Lucas might have a point about Will's feelings for Sami, but he was barking up the wrong tree about Joy. And Lucas was getting away from the supposed subject. "But you didn't answer me. How can you think about the thirteen years you spent in prison, and Allie and Johnny out there somewhere we can't find them, and not be mad at Mom?"

"Because I know that the last thing your mother wanted to do was marry EJ or let him near the twins. He raped her. He threatened her. She didn't have a choice, not a real one. I was the one who shot EJ, and that's why I went to prison. Not because she married him. Because I shot him. There's enough blame to go around. And… I love her, Will. I've loved other women, too, but your mother was it. It's not worth it to think about the times she disappointed me when I can think about the times she made me so deliriously happy I can't even describe it."

"But she let Allie and—"

Lucas cut Will off. "Not she, we. Your mother and I both hurt all three of our kids. It was the last thing either of us meant to do, but it happened and I'm sorry. She was, too, back when she did it. She thought it was the best way to protect you. We didn't want to tell you, but EJ was making threats against you."

"He made threats against me to my face."

Lucas' jaw tightened. "And you knew he meant them, didn't you? You knew he wouldn't give up until he was dead, in jail, or had everything he wanted."

They completed the thought in unison. _"Why couldn't it have been dead or in jail?" _

* * *

Oh, she was beautiful. Bloody gorgeous.

When had that happened?

Allie—Alice, Alicia—had always been cute and pretty. He had always wanted her, wanted her from the day of her birth. First he had wanted her for a daughter. He and she and Samantha and Johnny-Gianni would have been a perfect family of four.

Samantha was long gone. Allie and Johnny barely remembered her. Allie and Johnny weren't even aware that they were siblings, let alone twins.

Johnny was gone, too, getting a proper education at one of the most exclusive schools in the world.

But his Al-li-ci-a was still here. He hadn't been able to chance sending her away, not knowing as he did that there was no blood between them and he had no legal right to her. Keeping her close had been no hardship.

No blood between them.

The blood rushed from his brain in search of more exotic locales.

His constant sense of guilt heightened, but not enough to stop him from slipping into the room beside Allie's. It was difficult to walk normally, but he managed. Some niceties had to be observed.

Quietly, he removed the framed Van Gogh print from the wall. Shakily, he opened the tiny door concealed beneath it. Reverently, he peered through the two-way mirror into Allie's bedroom.

She was still cute and pretty, but every day she was more beautiful and—God help him—sexual. How was he supposed to think of her as his daughter when she had those _curves_—those legs, those hips, that waist, those breasts? The child was thirteen years old. What thirteen-year-old had breasts like that? How could he remember that she wasn't like her mother when she had that porcelain skin, those blue eyes, that blonde hair, those _lips_?

Allie was curled up in a chair and writing something in a notebook. EJ wondered what she was writing; she always did her assignments for her online courses and the tutoring he gave her himself on her computer.

Her hair fell into her face and she brushed it aside impatiently. It tangled just a bit and EJ suppressed a moan. He loved it when Allie's hair tangled. He would brush it out, slowly, sensuously, and kiss it when he was done. He would kiss her cheek and her forehead, and maybe those kiss were a bit too long, but how could he help it?

He hadn't helped Allie with her hair for a long time. She always insisted that she didn't need his help, and he had to devise new ways to get closer to the beautiful, irresistible young woman he had once promised to love as a daughter.

Sometimes, he came into her room at night under the guise of having forgotten to tell her of their plans for the next day. He would enter without knocking and lie beside her on the bed as he told her, letting his arm accidentally brush against her breasts as he reached over her to turn out the light beside her bed.

Sometimes, he kissed her goodbye as a "father" ought to, but his lips lingered on her cheek or her forehead long enough to imagine what it would be like to crush her lips beneath his own, as he had once done with her doppelganger mother.

Sometimes, when she stood on her toes to reach for something—making her legs even more beautiful, if possible—he would come up close behind her to help. Then his body touched every inch of hers. Suffice it to say, he made certain that their home was full of shelves and drawers that were just far enough over Allie's head to give him maximum opportunity.

But this incidental paternal contact was not enough. He tried to keep the strange beast raging within him under wraps. When he wanted more, he tried force himself to settle for visual satisfaction only. Never before in his life had he denied himself anything.

As he watched, Allie uncurled herself and snapped the notebook into a case meant to hold a DVD—one of the duller animated features from her early childhood. The case went to the bottom of the pile, and Allie left the room.

EJ's hands continued to shake as he replaced the painting and dashed frantically into Allie's room. He wanted Allie's mind, soul, and body. He denied himself her body. He would not deny himself the rest.

Within ten seconds, he had snatched the small book from its hiding place. As he had hoped against hope, it appeared to be some sort of journal. He would be able to learn the things about Allie that she seemed intent on denying him.

Her penmanship was perfect, of course; he had taught her and Johnny himself.

_It was like I was alive for the first time. I didn't know how to react. The whole world went bright, just like someone turned on a light switch._

And when he touched me to keep me from falling off the roof—I didn't know it could feel good to be touched. I never minded when Johnny touched me (I miss Johnny), but anyone else— I just didn't know it could feel good.

But on the other hand, I almost wish I'd fallen. Then I'd be free. I wasted thirteen years before I even went out on the roof by myself. There's so much out there and I want it all.

I want to be alive again. I hope everything out there is alive, and not just him.

Why couldn't he have told me his name?

"What are you doing?" The venom in Allie's voice was unusual. Ordinarily, she was quite deferential to EJ. This was quite a surprise when one considered how her mother had behaved.

But if one of them was going to be outraged today, it was not going to be Allie. EJ had been starving for her touch every second of every day, and Allie was giving herself up to some man she didn't even know by name.

EJ waved the book in her face. "I think the appropriate question, Alicia, is what have you been doing?"

Allie's baby-round face quivered. "I was writing a novel, but now you've read it before it was finished."

"Nice try." He was still too angry to wonder how Allie had grown into such an abysmal liar. "Do I need to put bars on every window in this house? Do I need to have a guard follow you every minute I'm away?"

"No!"

A hundred thoughts flew through his mind as he stepped closer to her. He remembered the first time he'd seen her, soon after her birth, in Marlena Evans' bedroom. He remembered the first time he'd held her—over Samantha's objection—when Samantha had been packing to accompany him to London after their marriage.

He remembered when Allie and Johnny had been toddlers and he'd set them in swings, side by side, at the park. He would push one swing with one hand, then one swing with the other. Passing women would slow down to watch them, smiling as the doting father catered to his beautiful twins. Their admiration didn't make Samantha's continued rejection any easier.

He remembered when Allie had suddenly taken ill soon after her third birthday. She had sweated through her nightgown, and as he stood her in the bathtub and ran a sponge over her naked body—

Allie didn't remember any of it. That was a blessing and a curse.

She looked more like Samantha than ever as she lunged for the notebook with fire in her eyes.

EJ grabbed her clawing hands and leaned in to kiss her.

* * *

"You not only went looking for that house by yourself when I told you not to, you climbed up on the roof?" Jett demanded for the tenth time.

Theo sighed. Jett could be so unimaginative. Sometimes he illustrated the worst stereotypical qualities of an agent of the law. "That's not the point."

"When I agreed to take you to see the DiMera holdings we know about, you agreed that I get to decide what the point is."

Theo didn't remember agreeing to that at all. He had more or less promised to obey Jett, and he had certainly broken that promise when he'd gone to see the DiMera-held townhouse on his own, but that wasn't the same as agreeing to let his stodgy cousin think for him. Anyway, that was hardly the most pressing matter at hand. "Can't we talk about that later? This girl—"

"No, we can't talk about it later—"

"She's being held there against her will, I'm sure of it—"

"What's important is that you could have been killed."

"That's what the DiMeras do!"

"You may have alerted an international crime syndicate—"

"Her window doesn't open, she's not allowed out on her own—"

"That various agencies are aware that he owns that building—"

"She looked so haunted!"

"And who knows who might have been watching you do your Spiderman act—friends, enemies—"

"She said she had a guardian, not parents. She needs our help!"

"No one needs any help from you after the stunt you just pulled." Jett grabbed Theo by the back of his neck and forced him toward the flat where they were staying. "Neither one of us is going anywhere tonight. You aren't going anywhere alone until you're back in Salem."

Theo's mind was such a mixture of confusion and frustration that he let Jett push him down the street to their temporary London home. He knew that the rest of his family hoped that Jett's pseudo-military attitude would be just what Theo needed to break his bad habits and choose a less destructive path for his life. Theo had doubted that he would somehow see the metaphorical light after prolonged exposure to Jett, but he had felt the need to learn more about the DiMeras before he could set aside that part of his history and focus on something else. Jett, who had worked for the ISA and several other anti-crime organizations, was the only one who could provide this bizarre form of therapy.

Theo reminded himself of this and let ten minutes pass before he tried to approach his cousin again.

"Jett," he said softly. "I know that what I did was wrong. But two wrongs don't make a right, and ignoring this girl isn't going to do anyone any good."

Jett sighed. "How old did you say she was?"

"Teenager. Maybe fifteen?"

"Girls are really dramatic at that age. They always think they're being tortured somehow."

"But it was a DiMera house, and the DiMeras really do torture people. My Mom is one, and that didn't stop her family from locking her up in a tunnel underground." Theo suppressed a shudder at the memories of his mother's disappearance and return. He hadn't been old enough to understand much of it, but he thought that that was when he had first realized, on a visceral level, that the potential to inflict pain and horror ran through his own veins.

"It's a DiMera-owned property. They run businesses out of that place, have meetings. It's not a residence."

"They have bedrooms. I saw one!" Theo pointed at his eyes to emphasize his meaning.

"For taking a nap before plotting all night. Or for stashing a teenager while her father hammers out a deal. Don't you think that's even possible?"

Truthfully, Theo didn't.

"This trip has been hard on you," Jett continued. "You're imaging all the awful things the DiMeras did, and you're taking them on yourself because you share their DNA. If I were in your place, I might be seeing damsels in distress, too." Jett clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder. "Your mystery girl is fine. I promise. You do not have some distant relative who's keeping her in a cage."

Jett laughed as if that were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

_**TBC**_


	9. Breakout

**Part 9- Breakout**

Allie struggled unsuccessfully to free herself from EJ's kiss. She knew he must be gripping her hard enough to leave bruises on her arms, but she didn't feel any pain. Instead, she was overwhelmed by the revulsion of a tongue pushing her own out of the way, saliva tracking down her cheek, her blouse ripping, and something hard pressing against her waist.

She had resigned herself to waiting this out as she had waited out many unpleasant things in her life when her ears began to ring. No, it wasn't her ears after all; it was a signal from one of the downstairs maids. "Mr. DiMera," her voice crackled over the intercom "There's a fire outside. We think we can get it out, but—"

"Damn and blast." EJ let go of Allie. Her knees were suddenly weak, and she tumbled to the floor. All at once, though, there was a banging at her window, and then the sound of glass shattering. She scrambled to her feet only to see the man she had met on the roof. Was he a bugler after all?

"Are you a prisoner here?" he asked.

After what had just happened, Allie didn't hesitate. Whatever was in store for her with the stranger, it was better than what she was leaving behind. "Yes."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes."

He nodded as if this had been expected and stepped back toward the window. "Take my hand. I set a fire outside as a diversion, but we don't have much time."

Allie picked her way through the shattered glass and onto the roof. She felt terribly young and awkward as she followed her rescuer's graceful movements from one level of roof to the next, to the trellis and finally the ground.

The smell of smoke, thin but noticeable, drifted toward them as they hurried to put as much distance between themselves and the house as they could.

It was only when they were hidden away in a crowd near the entrance to a pub that he murmured "what's your name?"

"Al—Amy."

"Amy," he repeated, and looked her over carefully. Allie tried to keep her gaze steady, but somehow she was sure he realized she was lying. He did not force the matter, however. "I'm Theo. Theo Carver," was all he said as he removed a mobile phone from his pocket.

"I'm calling a friend of friend," he explained.

That didn't sound like a good course of action to Allie. If Theo didn't know these people well, he had no way of telling whether they would send Allie back to her (presumably very angry) guardian. She wanted to say as much, but Theo was already speaking into his mobile.

"Mr. Deveraux? My name is Theo Carver… Will told you. Good… I want to take you up on that. Now. My friend and I really need some help… Thank you. Where, exactly?" He glanced at the face of his mobile. Allie could see a map had appeared, along with directions. "We'll be there soon. See you then."

"How well do you know these people?" Allie asked as Theo started down the street at a good pace.

"Their nephew is a buddy of mine," Theo explained. "The best. Almost like a brother."

"But you don't know _them_?"

"It'll be fine, Amy. They're good people. My dad's known them for years. It's just that they left Salem when I was a baby."

"Where's Salem?" Allie asked. Her raging curiosity was starting to get the better of her well-grounded fear.

"In the United States."

"I figured that part out. Oh—is it where they hanged the witches?"

Theo chuckled. "That's a different Salem. This one is more toward the middle part of the country."

He answered a few more of Allie's questions as they followed the directions to his friend's uncle's house. Allie resisted the urge to dive behind the nearest car and hide when Theo opened the creaky gate at the bottom of a short flight of stairs.

A tall man with dark hair and blue eyes opened the door before they reached it. He was older than even Allie's guardian, but he was still very handsome. His eyes skimmed over Theo and locked on Allie.

"Sami," he murmured almost involuntarily.

Theo looked from him to Allie in confusion. "Mr. Deveraux, this is my friend Amy," he began, but to no avail. Mr. Deveraux paid him no mind, instead choosing to lean down so he and Allie could stare into one another's faces.

"Alice Horton the Second," Mr. Deveraux muttered. "They called you Allie, didn't they? God, you look like your mother." Allie's stomach turned. Who could this man possibly be that he not only knew her name (except for the "second" part), but that she looked like her long-dead mother?

"Her name," Theo began defensively, "is Amy—"

For the first time, Theo had Mr. Deveraux's attention. "Where the hell did you find her?" he snarled. Before Theo could answer, Mr. Deveraux had drawn them inside and locked the door behind them. Then he shouted to someone called Abigail that she should lock all of the windows and close all the blinds upstairs as he did the same downstairs.

Allie backed toward the door. Maybe she had made a terrible mistake. Maybe her guardian had only kept her confined to keep her safe from people like this Mr. Deveraux who wanted no one to know that she was here.

Mr. Deveraux noticed her attempted retreat and reached out to stop her. When she recoiled, so did he, and he settled for saying "no one wants to hurt you."

Allie wanted to ask why he had to lock the doors and close the blinds, but what came out was "How did you know my name? You knew my mother?"

He nodded. "Your mother and I were great friends. She was married to my wife's brother—your father."

"Wouldn't that make you my uncle?" Allie asked warily.

"That's one word for it."

"What's another word for it?"

Mr. Deveraux appeared to give the matter serious consideration. "That's really the only word for it, at least in English" he decided.

Theo looked from Mr. Deveraux to Allie and back again as if he were watching a ping pong match. "You're saying she's Will's sister?" he demanded.

"Where did you find her?" Mr. Deveraux repeated without answering Theo's question.

Allie took advantage of their distraction to make a second attempt to escape. The coincidence of being deposited in a long-lost uncle's living room was too much. This had to be an elaborate ruse. She wasn't sure what she would do on her own—singing for change on the street and getting herself adopted by a non-crazy family were possibilities—but she could decide that later.

She shrieked in surprise when a soft hand touched her shoulder. She hadn't seen the woman enter the room.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," the woman soothed while Allie tried to stop shaking.

"Who are you?" asked Allie, because everything was strange and the time for politeness had passed.

The woman took pity on Allie and let her demand slide. "I'm Abby Deveraux. This is my father's house. I'm visiting."

Allie studied Abby Deveraux carefully. All of her instincts screamed that this woman was trustworthy. "I'm Allie Horton."

Abby's eyes widened, but she kept her comments to herself, for which Allie was more than grateful. Instead, with a detached air, she evaluated Allie's torn clothing and the bruises on her arms. "Let's find a shirt for you that isn't ripped," Abby suggested. "We can clean up those cuts and maybe put ice on that bruise?"

Allie felt her skin crawl at the memory of EJ's hands and lips on her body. A wash sounded even better than escape.

"Yes, please," she murmured to her… cousin? She didn't think she would mind being this woman's cousin, if Mr. Deveraux's crazy story happened to be true.

"Come on, then." Abby led Allie up the stairs and into a bathroom. Allie glanced longingly at the shower, and Abby smartly followed her eyes. "I bet you'd feel better after a shower, but there's one thing I need to ask you first." Abby's voice was warm and gentle, but Allie cringed as she realized what Abby was about to ask.

"He didn't rape me," Allie blurted out.

Abby exhaled sharply; it was the first sign of anxiety Allie had seen from her. "But he did hurt you?"

"No," whispered Allie, but her body betrayed her and her head nodded "yes."

"Only one man?" Abby prompted.

Allie thought that one was quite enough. "Yes. My guardian," she explained hastily, lest Abby believe for even an instant that Allie was casting aspersions on Theo.

"Has he done this before?"

"Didn't you say there was only one thing you needed to ask me?" Allie returned. She meant to sound forceful and streetwise, but her voice came out in a frightened mewl instead. "No one raped me. I won't wash away any evidence." Then she realized that she was practically begging to be allowed to disrobe in this strange house with these strange people who claimed to be long lost relatives. "I don't need a shower anyway."

"We'll start with those cuts and bruises. Then you can decide." Abby stepped from the room, and in an instant returned with a nondescript pink t-shirt. "This should do for now. At least it's not ripped. If you end up staying here for a few days, we'll buy whatever you'd like to wear."

Allie shook her head emphatically. "I'm not staying."

"Then where are you going?"

"I'll—there are shelters. I'll figure something out."

"Don't you think your guardian might find you there?"

"How do I know he won't find me here?"

"We're your family. We aren't going to give you up to someone who hurt you. But a shelter might have to, if he's your legal guardian."

Allie shrugged. "How do I know you're my family? Isn't it a little too much of a coincidence that Theo found me, not knowing who I was, and brought me to my uncle's house?"

"I don't think it's much of a coincidence at all. Theo wasn't there for no reason, you know. His family owns that house—"

"Theo's not related to the DiMeras!"

"Theo's mother is a woman named Lexie Carver. Her father was Stefano DiMera, so if the man you were living with was Stefano's son EJ, yes, he is related to Theo. Just because people in his family have done bad things, though, that doesn't mean he does bad things, too."

Allie thought of Johnny and knew that was true. She gestured that Abby should continue.

"Theo and the DiMeras have family in Salem, and so do you and I. The DiMeras took you and your mother from Salem when you were a baby. Theo's good friends with my cousin—your brother—Will. So of course he'd come to Will's family here when he needed help."

The way Abby put it, it almost made sense. "I have a broth—" Allie began, when there was a knock at the open door. Mr. Deveraux—Uncle Jack?—had appeared without warning. Allie flinched and started to shake. His sudden appearance reminded her of the sudden appearances of her guardian, and he was tall like her guardian, and—

"Dad, maybe you want to go…?" Allie was shaking too hard to discern exactly where Abby thought her father should go. But she did notice that something unspoken passed between them. Allie knew that Mr. Deveraux didn't want to leave, but was doing it at Abby's suggestion.

"I'll do that," he agreed at last. "Abigail," he added, carefully keeping his distance from Allie, "Theo is downstairs arguing with Jett over the phone. All the doors and windows are locked and covered. If your mother and JJ come home, you'll have to let them in because the deadbolts are thrown."

"Thanks, Dad."

It took Allie a few minutes to make the shaking stop, but when it did, she finally felt comfortable enough to change out of the destroyed shirt and let Abby bandage her bleeding arms. At long last, she was able to use a washcloth to scrub some of the felling of her guardian's mouth off of her face.

* * *

The receptionist at the long-term care facility knew Jack by sight, although she had to be reminded of his name before granting him permission to visit Sami. As always, she was unfailingly polite and professional. The whole of the building was clean, even if it reeked of the classic mixture of excrement and disinfectant. It was a sad smell, but the place was a sad place.

Visiting Sami was something Jack did regularly, in spite of the fact, or perhaps because of the fact, that it felt like a penance. At some level, he wondered if some of the wrongs he had done in his life—there had been many wrongs—were visiting themselves upon him when he looked at his friend lying insensate, put into hospital bed by a man who had decided he would possess her at any cost.

Sami's room was filled with flowers, as it always was. On the rare occasions that they discussed the matter, Jennifer insisted that Sami must appreciate the flowers in her periodic bursts of consciousness.

Jack would have liked to agree.

He didn't.

He didn't think Sami was capable of appreciating anything. She lacked all sense of coherence in her conscious moments. Once, two years before, Jack had happened to be in her room when she came around, and when she'd opened her eyes he'd had a sense like a sucker punch that she knew exactly who he was. But nothing of the kind had happened since, and he'd almost convinced himself that that had been a product of his overactive imagination.

Jack sat in his usual place beside Sami's bed. "Sami, it's Jack. Can you hear me?"

There was no response. There never was.

"There's no way to prepare you for what I'm about to say. It's good news, though. Good news, but it could be a shock. It's about your daughter. Little Alice, Allie. She's at my house right now. Don't worry, Abigail is with her. Abigail is good in these situations—remember I told you about the work she did in that hospital in Africa? But you don't want to hear about Abigail. Allie, she, well, she looks a lot like you. I recognized her as soon as I saw her. There was no one else she could possibly be. Take a picture of you at thirteen and one of her now, and you couldn't tell who was who except for the clothes and the hairstyle. I thought Jennifer and Abigail looked a lot alike, but this is amazing."

He thought for a moment. What else would Sami want to hear, if she could? What would he want to hear, if someone was telling him about JJ?

"We'll make sure she gets back to Lucas and Will safely, of course. There are so many people in Salem who want to take care of her, and who missed her. They miss, you, too. We all do. So any time you want to wake up and say 'hi' to Allie and Will and even your old friend Jack…"

Sami did not seem inclined to do any of that.

* * *

When Allie emerged from the bathroom with her face flushed red from a hard scrubbing, Abby was waiting with a series of heavy books.

"The Hortons are big on photo albums," Abby explained. "We've got a website, too, with digital pictures, but practically everyone in the family has a set like this." She flipped the first volume open. "This is the only one I've found of you so far. You and your dad, Uncle Lucas." Allie stared at the photograph. She felt nothing. The man was a stranger; the baby could have been anyone.

Abby flipped backwards a few pages. Allie gasped in spite of herself. "Your mom and dad's wedding picture," Abby narrated unnecessarily. Allie had seen pictures of her mother before, and this was undoubtedly her, looking strikingly like Allie (but older and more beautiful). And her mother was beaming at the man who had held the baby in the previous picture.

Allie's stomach flipped. There was no way her mother had ever loved her guardian, or anyone else, the way she loved this man.

There were more pictures from the wedding. Abby pointed out Allie's brother Will, and Allie studied him carefully. She had always pretended to herself that Johnny was her brother, but Will seemed nice, too.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Allie felt warm and comfortable. But just as she began to relax, the shuttered window behind them exploded into a million pieces of shattered glass. Someone clasped something over her mouth; she could see the same thing happening to Abby before everything went black.

_**TBC**_


	10. Capture

**Chapter 10: Capture**

Will's phone beeped in alarm, and the message "911! Come to Titan NOW! 911! ASAP! Don't call, come!" flashed across the screen.

His first thought was that something must have happened to his father. "Call Dad," he instructed the phone even as he grabbed his coat and hastened to obey Philip's summons. Just in case, he grabbed his medical bag as well.

"Will? What's going on?" Lucas' voice had a hard edge to it.

"I just got a message from Philip."

"I got the same one. I thought there might be a problem with you."

Will laughed without amusement at the irony. "That's what I thought. I mean, I thought something happened to you. Are you on your way to Titan?"

"Almost there. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Will's phone rang again as he disconnected. The ring was the one that indicated Theo was the caller. Will hadn't heard much from Theo since he'd taken off for his grand tour of DiMera Europe, but right now he didn't have the time to talk. He sent Theo's call directly to voicemail, resolving to get in touch with him once the current crisis, whatever it might be, was under control.

He made it to Titan in record time and slammed through the front door. He bypassed security, but the guards either recognized him or didn't care.

Will and Lucas met in the elevator. They didn't bother with a verbal greeting, but Lucas' hand came to rest on Will's arm, and Will appreciated the reminder that whatever had happened, he would not be dealing with it alone.

"This better be good, Phil," Lucas burst out as soon as they were safely inside Philip's office.

Philip's face was solemn and steady, giving nothing away. "It is good. But maybe you should both sit down."

"Maybe you should just tell us," Will suggested with more than a little irritation. He did not feel at all reassured by Philip's vague, pokerfaced description of the news as "good."

Philip shrugged. "Suit yourselves." For an agonizingly long moment, there three of them stared at each other. Then Philip said "I think some of my people have found Allie."

Will's vision darkened and he staggered to the couch, where he collapsed with his head in his hands. His ears were ringing, but he could hear his father's desperate voice asking "Where is she?"

"She's on her way here. My people got her and a woman she was with on a plane a few hours ago."

"A plane from where?"

"London."

"What about Johnny?" Will asked hoarsely when he found his voice.

"There's no sign of him." Philip crossed the room with the slight limp which only manifested itself when he was exhausted or stressed and ran a hand over Will's shoulder. Suddenly he was Uncle Philip instead of Mr. Kiriakis, Titan of Titan. "I hope Allie can tell you something about him. My people hadn't talked to her when they sent a message to me. Unfortunately, they may have been a little over-enthusiastic when they found her."

Lucas, who had been pacing the length of the office, stopped in front of Will and Philip. "What do you mean, 'over-enthusiastic?'"

"According to the message, she's fine. It shouldn't cause any lasting effects."

"What shouldn't?" growled Lucas and Will in unison.

"They might have used chloroform on her."

"They used chloroform on my thirteen-year-old daughter?"

Philip nodded. "I don't like it, either. I'll mention that to them. But keep in mind that they might have a reasonable explanation. It's been a lot of years since Sami got hurt and we lost touch with the twins. If they really felt like their one chance to get Allie back would have been jeopardized if they didn't physically subdue her, they did the right thing."

"She's healthy otherwise?" Will asked, already mentally debating which pediatrician should be asked to take Allie on as a patient.

"There's nothing to suggest that she's not. We'll go meet the plane and you can see her for yourself."

"They're flying into Salem International?" Lucas wanted to know.

"No. The landing strip on the other side of town. More private when you might have kidnapped someone."

"She's my daughter. If anyone is a kidnapper here, it's EJ DiMera."

"You're right about Allie. But there was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties taken with Allie, and I don't know who she is." Philip deliberately turned his back and Lucas' ire and held his hands out to Will. Will obediently allowed Philip to tug him into a standing position and direct him toward the private exit.

Within minutes they were on their way to a Titan warehouse that stood beside the landing strip.

* * *

The warehouse was secure, well-lit, and warm, but it was still a warehouse in all its boxy, dusty glory. Lucas had pictured his reunion with Allie ten thousand different ways, but this had not been one of them.

He reminded himself that Philip had received limited information from the detectives and bounty hunters in his employ. The girl, the little stranger, who would soon join them in the warehouse might not even be his daughter. He hadn't seen Allie in person since her infancy, and she had been only three years old when Sami had last sent photographs home to Salem. The two of them didn't know each other and had no way of recognizing each other.

The thing to do, Lucas decided, was to introduce himself to the girl in as non-threatening a way as possible and politely explain that they needed to do a DNA test to determine if she might be his long-lost daughter.

Somewhere along the far wall, a door creaked open and the tiniest sliver of November sunlight illuminated flecks of dust dancing in the air.

Three figures shuffled through the door. Two tall, strong men dressed in black flanked a much smaller girl who stumbled with every step. As the trio approached Will, Philip, and Lucas, the girl raised her trembling head in a show of defiance.

Lucas' eyes filled with hot tears before he knew why. It was Will's shaky voice beside Lucas that stated the obvious. "She looks like Mom."

All the lessons Lucas had learned in prison—lessons about hiding emotion, controlling movements, allowing abundant personal space—abandoned him. He rushed toward Allie and folded her into his arms; Philip's employees backed away as if they had been commanded.

Allie stiffly submitted to the embrace. Lucas relished the feeling of her heart beating against him. He knew that heartbeat; he remembered it from the first time he'd held her in his arms more than thirteen years before. When he pulled back to get a better look at Allie's face—Sami's face, again—he saw only a blank, vaguely frightened expression.

"Allie, sweetheart, I'm your daddy. I've missed you so much. I love you so much, and I was so worried I wouldn't get to see you again." He swallowed past a sob; he had to get control of himself. "What do you need, Allie? Are you hungry? Are you cold?" He divested himself of his jacket and dropped it around his daughter's small shoulders, but that didn't make Allie stop shaking. "You can have anything you want. Anything in the world. What can I give you?"

Allie didn't respond.

"Dad?" Will's voice was hoarse with emotion; his cheeks, like Lucas', were streaked with tears. Lucas grabbed his son and pulled him into a tight embrace, which Will returned fiercely. Will buried his face in Lucas' shoulder like he hadn't since he'd been a very small boy. Instinctively, Lucas knew that Will wasn't crying just from relief and happiness that Allie had come home. Will was crying about everything that had led them to stand in this warehouse with a mute girl who didn't know them. Will was crying about everything he had claimed to be "over" since the day Lucas began serving his prison sentence.

They disentangled themselves in a wet, hurried mess when they heard light footsteps retreating toward the far door. Philip had vanished, presumably intending to give Lucas and Will some privacy and to debrief his black-clad employees. Allie had taken advantage of their absence and was trying to make a run for it.

Allie was too shaky on her feet to get far; Will and Lucas caught up to her well before she neared the door. "There's nothing out there for you," Will told her gently. "Just the landing strip and more warehouses. Where are you trying to go?"

"Home," Allie whispered, and Lucas' heart missed a beat at finally hearing her voice.

"Where's home?" Will asked.

"I don't know."

"Then it would definitely be hard for you to get there."

Allie glared.

"What do you want that I can give you?"

Will received the same silence Lucas had received a moment before.

"Does anything hurt?"

More silence.

"I'm a doctor. If—"

"I'm not hurt." The words came out in a defensive rush.

"Good. Then can you do me a favor?"

"What favor?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'd like to run a DNA test to prove, well, to prove that you are who we think you are. Allie Horton."

"If you're going to stick a needle in me, you're going to have to hold me down and listen to me scream."

Lucas knelt beside Allie. "Allie, baby, no one is going to do anything to hurt you. He can do this without a needle."

Will collected his bag, which had dropped unceremoniously to the floor when he'd first seen Allie, and removed a cotton swab and a pair of plastic bags. "The two easiest ways would be to give me a piece of your hair, or to let me swab the inside of your cheek." He held up the cotton and hoped it looked non-threatening.

Allie ran her right hand through her long, blonde hair and presented Will with the first tangled strand that pulled loose. He secured it in the bag.

"That's all. Thank you." He tore his attention from Allie and returned it to Lucas. "Maybe it's better if I go to the hospital and make sure this gets done now. Before gossip gets around about what's going on. It might be less overwhelming for Allie to have just you instead of both of us here, too."

The last thing that Lucas wanted was for Will to leave his sight. He didn't want to be away from his children ever again, and certainly not now. But Will raised a fair point. The sooner they had scientific confirmation that Allie was his daughter, the better. "You're right, Buddy," he agreed reluctantly. "Get the job done as fast as you can. Think they'll let you in the lab to watch over the tech's shoulder?"

"I'll try." Will held out the other bag to his father. "Hair," he commanded. Lucas obliged, and then pulled Will into another hug.

"Love you, Will."

"Love you too. See you soon." He glanced at Allie over his shoulder. "See you soon, too, Allie."

Lucas was wondering what he could possibly say to help Allie feel safe and comfortable when a shout interrupted them.

"So you had me kidnapped?" asked a vaguely familiar female voice.

"I had Allie re-kidnapped. You were just in the way," Philip explained in a way that Lucas did not think could possibly improve the woman's mood.

"Well, you never change, do you? Last time I saw you, all those years ago, you were bribing judges so you could steal Claire Brady from her parents—"

"That was entirely different."

"You can't just take things because you want them."

"I don't want you. You're free to go."

Before Lucas could quite place the voice, Allie was running for the door again. "ABBY?" she shouted.

"ALLIE, YOU'RE OKAY?"

Abby Deveraux exploded into the warehouse. She and Allie rushed up to each other, but stopped just short of touching. "Are you all right, Allie?"

Allie's wide eyes darted from Philip to Lucas. "Do you know these people?"

Abby heaved a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately, this idiot is your Uncle Philip, who I will be suing for anything I can think of." Philip rolled his eyes. When Abby noticed Lucas, though, she smiled radiantly. "And this is my Uncle Lucas."

"The one you said was my father," said Allie flatly.

"Yes. He's your father."

Allie's eyes locked challengingly with Abby's. "How do I know you didn't plan for us to get kidnapped and taken over here?"

"I don't know," said Abby thoughtfully. "It must seem like an incredible betrayal of trust to be sitting in a house where I promised you would be safe when someone breaks though the window, chloroforms you, and drags you forty-five hundred miles without your permission to meet the people you'd been hoping to meet on your own terms."

Lucas interrupted before the disagreement could escalate further. "Philip, did your people break into Jack and Jennifer's house?"

"Their job was to get Allie. That's what they did," said Philip coolly. "I think I'll give them an extra bonus this Christmas." He subtly jutted his chin in Abby's direction.

Lucas sighed inwardly. Philip's attitude was the least of his concerns. If he really felt that Philip needed to be taken to task, he'd call Billie, since that seemed to be her hobby lately. He certainly wasn't going to let Abby do it in front of Allie.

"Would you like Abby to come home with us?" he asked his daughter. "_Please_," he mouthed at Abby over Allie's head, and Abby nodded.

"Yes, please."

"All right." Lucas reached for his daughter with one arm and his niece with the other. Abby gave him a half-hug as a greeting; Allie avoided the contact but still allowed Lucas to guide her from the warehouse.

It was a start.

_**TBC**_


	11. Three Friendships

**Chapter 11: Three Friendships**

Will couldn't remember a time before he had worried about falsified DNA tests. That made sense; his mother had done her best to hide the results of his own blood tests in his babyhood, and the result had been a long and bitter custody battle between his parents. Now that he worked in the hospital, and was emotionally invested in the health and happiness of so many patients, he was always concerned about the anguish a corrupt or incompetent lab technician could cause.

There was no doubt in his mind that the girl he had met in the warehouse was his sister. She looked too much like their mother for any other possibility to be an option. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when he assessed the selection of techs who were working in the lab when he entered. They were all experienced and talented. The newest hire, who in Will's not-so-humble opinion was a complete idiot, was nowhere to be found; neither was June, the blonde woman Will disliked because she was always flirting with Nick (who even if he was unaware of Chelsea's condition, should have known better).

Luckily, the lab was having one of its rare slow days, and no one objected to rushing Will's project or letting him watch the proceedings.

"Perfect match," Fran Jones told him. "This is to establish paternity?" Will nodded tightly. "He's the father."

Fran tried to make small talk as she filled out the requisite paperwork, but Will wasn't able to respond with more than "yeah" and "guess so" and "thanks." His head felt fuzzy, and he desperately wanted a few minutes alone to clear it.

By the time he'd shut himself into an exam room, tears were streaming down his face for the second time that day. He irritably reached for a paper towel from the roll above the sink and swiped at his eyes and nose. He'd never liked crying. He hadn't cried for years—not over his father's prison sentence, not over his mother's decision to abandon him, not over the subsequent disappearance of the twins. Today, though, he had to make a herculean effort to stop himself.

Will's thoughts wandered back to Allie. She'd been knocked unconscious, spirited thousands of miles from the only home she'd ever known, and deposited amongst a cluster of strangers, but she hadn't cried. His thirteen-year-old sister was tougher than he was.

"She was probably in shock," he reminded himself aloud. He compulsively checked to see that he had turned his phone on after leaving the lab. He had.

He was trying to decide whether to call his father with the good news or present it in person when the exam room door banged open and Joy Wesley shut herself inside with him.

She threw her weight against the door as if to hold it closed against some approaching force, and she didn't even notice Will's presence for a long second.

"Dr. Horton!" she exclaimed, looking slightly abashed.

Will couldn't help but smirk a little. "Who are we hiding from?"

"Dr. Karlin," Joy admitted. "It's a long story." Her breath caught as she looked Will full in the face for the first time. In the mirror on the wall, Will could see that while his eyes were dry, they were still red-rimmed. "Um, are you all right?"

"Fine. Thank you."

Joy's eyes dropped to the lab report Will had set on the examining table. "Is it a problem with one of your patients?"

Will ran through his options quickly. He could rebuff Joy's attempts at kindness and tell her that the subject wasn't open for discussion, but that would put even more of a strain on their already tenuous working relationship. He could lie, but that would require more mental energy than he was willing to expend. Or he could tell the truth, and start the inevitable gossip on its trek through Salem.

Joy would find out anyway, he rationalized.

"Not a patient. My sister."

Joy cocked her head. "Your sister who got… kidnapped when she was a baby?" It was no surprise that Joy knew the story even though they'd never discussed it. Everyone knew that story.

"We found her and I had some tests run to confirm—" his voice cracked and he let his gaze fall to the floor.

Joy took the lab report and read it quickly and with confidence. "So you got the result you wanted."

"Yeah."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Should I leave now?"

Even under the circumstances, Will felt a rush of amusement at seeing Dr. Joy Wesley looking so awkward and so far out of her element. "I don't know. Am I scarier than Dr. Karlin?" he teased.

Joy groaned. "I accidentally said something I shouldn't have about his wife. I'm hoping if I avoid him long enough he'll forget to refuse to let me assist on his good cases."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Dr. Karlin is temperamental. Even for a neurosurgeon."

"That's true, but he also wants the best of the best assisting him, and we all know that's you."

"Since when do you think I'm the best of anything?"

"I've never denied your talent in the operating room," said Will quietly. "I only wanted you to work on your bedside manner."

Joy stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. If Will hadn't known better, he would have thought that the world-renowned young prodigy had never before heard her skills praised. He smiled to see how young she suddenly looked.

Joy snapped to attention at Will's smile. "I'm sorry. I can't believe we're talking about this when you've just found your sister."

Will shook his head. "No. Thank you. It helps to talk about something normal, something I know how to think about."

"Oh."

"But now that you mention it, when you were thirteen, what was the best present someone could have bought you?"

"A chemistry set," said Joy promptly.

"You always wanted to be a doctor?"

"Always."

"What's something any girl that age would want? I'm sixteen years older than she is. It's not like we have anything in common. I need to start buying my way into her heart right away."

Joy laughed, which was annoying, because Will wasn't sure that he was kidding. "My sister was a teenager when I was born, too. I didn't decide whether I loved her based on what kinds of presents she sent me from wherever she was singing that season."

"But she did send you presents?"

Joy laughed again. "Your sister's in a new place. Get her a teddy bear to keep her company tonight."

"Mr. Fuzzy! Of course."

Joy backed slowly toward the door. "I don't know if I want to know about Mr. Fuzzy."

"My mom had a teddy bear called Mr. Fuzzy. She kept him all her life." The words tumbled out of Will in a rush, and he forgot that he and Joy had ever had a disagreement. "She gave me my own Mr. Fuzzy when I was little—he had two different colored eyes. I know she got two more for the twins, but I don't know whether she took them when she left…" He trailed off when he noticed how oddly Joy was looking at him. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking, right now." Joy hesitated. "I'm a resident, you're an intern. You have to tell me."

"I was just thinking that I can't decide whether it's weirder to see you babbling about teddy bears or to see you crying like you were when I came in."

"I wasn't crying," said Will reflexively. He never admitted to crying. He'd cried himself sick every night the summer his mother's throat was cut by Theo's crazy uncle-slash-cousin, but every morning when his father tried to talk to him, he'd ignored the overtures. The pattern had resumed when his father had broken off his engagement to his mother a few summers later: Will cried, Lucas queried, Will denied everything.

After that, until today, he just hadn't cried.

"All right," he told Joy. "Maybe I was crying."

* * *

Claire impatiently gestured for Ciara to hurry up. Philip only summoned her to his office after school for very important events. She barely saw Philip during the week. Once in a great while he would come home for dinner, and he usually managed to come to her swim meets and Tyler's baseball games, but he worked more hours in a day than some people worked in a month. Titan Industries was very important to Philip, and Claire never felt more like she was really growing up than when she was invited to meet him there. As far as she knew, Ciara had never even been in Philip's private office, but the voicemail Philip had left her earlier that day had made it clear that she was to bring Ciara to their meeting.

Ciara was wearing the highest pair of heels her mother had yet permitted her to buy, and she struggled to keep up with Claire. "Ow!" she shrieked as she tottered unsteadily and nearly lost her balance. "I broke my leg."

"I don't care," Claire told her, after surreptitiously ascertaining that Ciara's leg definitely wasn't broken. "We're going to be late."

"What does Uncle Philip want, anyway?" Ciara asked for the thousandth time.

"If you weren't wearing those shoes, we'd know already."

"I like these shoes. They're dramatic."

Privately, Claire thought that Ciara was more than dramatic enough without bright purple stilettos. And privately, she was a little annoyed when the first thing Philip said to either of them was "Nice shoes, Ciara."

"Thanks, Uncle Philip," Ciara beamed.

Philip sat with Claire and Ciara on the couch in his office. If Philip had sat beside Claire on one of the couches in their home, she would have cuddled against him like she had for as long as she could remember. But they were at Titan, and that meant that she was going to behave as a professional—as if she might be the head of Titan herself one day.

"I've called the two of you here because I need to ask a favor of you."

Claire sat up even straighter. "Anything. We'll do anything."

"Maybe *you* will," said Ciara.

Claire kicked Ciara's foot. A purple stiletto was sent flying across the room.

"We'll do anything," Ciara agreed.

"You both know that you have a cousin named Allie. She's my brother Lucas' daughter."

Claire and Ciara nodded in unison. They had often wondered what their mysterious missing cousins might be like, especially since Lucas had returned to Salem.

"From now on, Allie is going to be living with her father here in Salem." Philip held up his hand to stave off the inevitable torrent of questions, and with effort Claire choked it back. Her mother would learn everything in no time flat, and her mother would share. "I don't know for sure whether she'll be going to school with you, but if she is, I want the two of you to look out for her. She's a year younger than you, Ciara, and two years behind Claire-bear, so you won't see each other much. But if I hear that she's sitting alone in the cafeteria and the two of you are off giggling with your friends—"

"You don't have to tell us to do that," Claire objected, feeling genuinely stung. She was popular, but she couldn't help that. She lived in a mansion; her family was rich. Everyone in town admired Belle Black Brady and all of their children wanted to befriend her daughter. It wasn't Claire's fault. She didn't go in for the mind games and the teasing, and she certainly wasn't going to watch her own cousin be subjected to it.

"I know that," said Philip, but he didn't sound like he did. "She's had a hard time—and that is not an invitation for the two of you to go nosing around for details—so she might need a little extra help. I want you to be aware of that and give her the benefit of the doubt. And if anything out of the ordinary happens, I want you to let me know. Understood?"

"Understood," said Ciara.

"Understood," said Claire, managing not to cross her fingers in protest.

Then Philip's phone rang and his no-nonsense-no-fun receptionist rather unceremoniously ushered Claire and Ciara out.

"We have to go talk to your mom," Ciara told Claire. "She'll know the most and tell the most."

Claire nodded happily. In her irritation over Philip's lecture, she had almost forgotten to be excited that they were getting a new cousin.

* * *

Abby hadn't been sitting alone in Will's kitchen (close enough to provide some small security for Allie, far enough away to give Uncle Lucas some privacy) for five minutes when there was a rap at the back door. She glanced up, and felt much of her pent-up frustration vanish when she saw that the visitor was Chelsea.

They greeted each other with a long, laughing hug. It had been two years since they'd last been together, but Abby knew instantly that Chelsea was concealing something—and that she wouldn't be able to conceal it for much longer.

"Chelsea," she whispered in awe, grabbing her friend's hands. "You didn't tell me that you were pregnant again."

"I'm not," Chelsea protested unconvincingly. Despite Chelsea's rebellious teenage years, she'd never been much of a liar. At least, she'd never been an effective liar to Abby.

Abby let go of Chelsea's hands and reached for her abdomen instead. Chelsea flinched away. "You know I'm ticklish."

"Is that what you crazy kids are calling it nowadays? 'Ticklish?'"

Almost unwillingly, Chelsea stood still and allowed Abby's hands to trace what they would. "I can't hide it any more, can I?" Chelsea asked weakly when Abby gave the unborn baby a friendly pat through Chelsea's oversized sweater.

"Most people wouldn't grab you around the stomach to check," Abby said as she sank back into her chair.

"One of these days my grandmother is going to. The only reason she hasn't yet is because Mom is keeping her back with a whip and a chair."

"Why is it a secret?" Abby asked, and then tried to bite back the question. Three times Chelsea had announced her pregnancy to her family and friends. Three times, she and Nick had had to tell those same people that Chelsea had suffered a miscarriage. "I'm sorry. If you want it to be a secret, that's your business."

"It's not like that." Chelsea glanced around uneasily. "Who else is here?"

"Lucas and Allie. They're in the living room." Abby was so focused on Chelsea's unexpected pregnancy that she didn't notice Chelsea's complete non-reaction to Allie's name. Instead, Abby watched as Chelsea crept to the swinging door that led to the rest of the house and peeked through it. Having assured herself that she was safe from prying ears, she sat close to Abby and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Abby, we've been best friends since we were fifteen years old. So when I tell you that something has to be a secret, it has to be a secret."

"Of course," said Abby, annoyed with herself for burning with curiosity as well as concern.

"No one knows the whole story. The only ones who know for sure that I'm pregnant are Mom and Will and now you."

"And Nick," Abby prompted.

Chelsea's eyes brightened and she shook her head. "Nick can't know. Not now."

"I know you guys are having problems, but he loves you and you know how much he wants this—it's his baby, isn't it?"

Chelsea scowled. "Yes, it's Nick's baby! I would never—there's no one else!"

"Then why are you lying to him?"

"I'm not lying. I'm just not saying anything."

It was Abby's turn to scowl. Chelsea had always pulled stunts like this, beginning when she and Nick had first gotten together over a decade before. She had hoped Chelsea had outgrown them. But then, who was she to judge? Chelsea and Nick had been married for five years. Abby had never dated someone for even two years, and had certainly never been close to marriage.

"Don't look at me like that," Chelsea whispered.

"Look at you like what?"

"Like you're disappointed that I'm going to hurt Nick again."

"Nick is my friend. And my cousin. But he's your husband, and I know you would never—you would never not share this with him without a really good reason."

"I wouldn't. I'm glad someone thinks that." Chelsea took a deep breath. "You remember that when Nick first came to Salem, he worked in the lab at the hospital. Before he went to Salem U."

"Sure." That had been Abby's last full summer in Salem.

"He was fired for, well, for unethical behavior or however they put it." Abby nodded. She remembered the circumstances. "That really bothered him. Someone like Nick takes those things so seriously, he fixates on them, turns them over and over in his mind."

"But he moved on. He married you, and I thought he loved it at Salem U."

"He does. But when he started getting published, started getting grants and recognition, nothing made him happier than when the hospital gave him access to the lab again. It was for some project when there was a fire at his facility at the school. And they never took that access back—he still has full privileges. And a few months ago the hospital started having problems with the lab again."

"Nick has nothing to do with it."

"No. But we both think that June Emerson does. And June Emerson has a raging crush on Nick. So we staged a breakup so she'd think she had a chance, get closer to him."

"And then you found out that you were pregnant."

"Right. And if Nick knew, he wouldn't be able to stand not being with me. He'd call the whole thing off, and he's getting closer. You and I both know he doesn't need to redeem himself, or prove anything, but he feels like he does. Besides, if that woman really is destroying evidence or fixing results, well, we should try to protect the people she's hurting. Shouldn't we?"

"Oh, Chelsea." Abby hugged her friend again. "There are so many ways this can go wrong."

"They won't," said Chelsea firmly. Her eyes were clear, bright, and dry again. "Now that I've said the whole thing out loud, I'm sure this is the right thing to do. I'm so glad you're here! I have other friends but, well, Morgan would have told Max. And Max would have gone right to Nick. The only reason Will doesn't is because I have him caught in the doctor-patient confidentiality thing. He hates that I'm doing this. He thinks I'm afraid to go through losing another baby with Nick and that's why I'm not telling him, but… well, just because Will went to medical school doesn't mean he knows everything. Right?"

"Right," Abby confirmed, because she could see that Chelsea didn't need anyone else to tell her that Will probably had a point. Over the years, Abby had called Will a baby, a bully, and a camera-nerd, but she had never called him stupid.

"Oh. Don't be mad at Philip for chloroforming you."

Abby blinked at the abrupt change of subject. Obviously, the topic of Chelsea's secret pregnancy was closed for the moment. "Why shouldn't I be mad, and how do you even know about that?"

"That's kind of why I came over. Philip told me you were here and asked me to keep you from making a federal case about it. But when you noticed…" Chelsea glanced at her concealed midsection, "I just felt like I had to tell you."

"I'm sorry, Chels. But if someone breaks into my parents' house, knocks me unconscious, and drags me across the Atlantic ocean without my permission, I'm probably going to be angry."

"I'm not saying don't be angry. Philip can always use more people screaming at him and telling him he's a jerk. Just don't go public with what happened. You know Allie belongs with Lucas, not with that DiMera monster who as good as killed Sami. We can't have any technicalities getting in the way of that."

"There wouldn't be any technicalities if he'd just waited for me to bring Allie here by her own choice, and mine."

"His people didn't know who you were, or what your angle was."

"I know. I know that. But the last time I saw Philip Kiriakis was years ago, and he was stealing a child against her will then, too."

"You know that Claire still thinks of him as another parent, with Belle and Shawn's blessing. He said he was calling her right after he called me to talk to her about taking care of Allie."

"After everything they went through to keep him away from Claire. I still have trouble believing that they all play happy family now."

"Oh, I was pissed when they got back to Salem and all of a sudden Philip was their BFF, after everything you and I and Nick did trying to get them away from him. But it's been a long time. This works for them. If you stay here for a while this time, you'll see. How long are you staying?"

"At least until Allie settles in and feels comfortable here with Lucas and Will. But I'm not exactly prepared to be here long. Philip's hired thugs didn't exactly give me a chance to pack."

"Then we should go shopping!" said Chelsea brightly.

"I don't want to leave Allie."

"We'll go to Salem Place's website and have them deliver. It'll be fun."

Abby smiled. Shopping with Chelsea was something she hadn't done in a long time, and it *would* be fun.

As they passed by the living room en route to commandeering Will's computer, They saw Allie jump to her feet in a swirl of blonde hair.

"What did you say?" Allie asked Lucas furiously.

_**TBC**_


	12. Jhinga Biryani

**Chapter 12: Jhinga Biryani**

Allie had made her decision over a monumentally dreadful container of takeaway Jhinga Biryani.

It wasn't a long car trip from the airport to Lucas and Will's house, but when she'd looked out the window and noticed the Bukhara Indian Bistro, Lucas had insisted on stopping. He'd asked her what she liked best, and she was suddenly starving so she told him everything.

So he'd handed the menu to cashier and requested one of everything.

The cashier had encouraged him to narrow it down a bit—how many curries did they really need?—but they'd still left with three huge bags of food. Allie had reached for the Jhinga Biryani because it was the easiest to eat in the car, but she gagged as soon as the rice touched her lips.

"Are you all right?" asked Abby.

"It's—" unable to summon words to describe the situation Allie handed the container to Abby.

Abby tasted it. "I think it's okay. It's not what you'd get in London. The best Indian food that isn't in India is in London, because, well, you know why."

Allie felt a thrill of indignation at Abby's veiled reference to England's colonial past, as if Abby was somehow implying that the Americans hadn't bunked up the whole superpower thing far worse than the English ever had.

Then she remembered that she had always known that her mother was American, and now it turned out that her father was, too. She wasn't sure that she had ever been a legal resident of the United Kingdom. At present, though, politics and citizenship were far less important than the truly abysmal quality of the Indian takeaway.

"So there isn't any good Indian food in this whole country?"

"Maybe you should try more than one bite before you decide that it's all inedible," Abby suggested. By then, they were nearly to the house (much humbler than the townhouse in London, but of a comparable size). Once there, they spread the containers out across the kitchen table and Allie tasted all of the dishes. Some were better than others. None were as bad as the first shocking mouthful.

"Have you always liked Indian food?" Lucas asked.

Allie nodded, not answering aloud because her mouth was full.

"Me too," he told her. "You must get that from me, because your mom couldn't stand it. It was like she was allergic to it. The smell of curry sent her running in the other direction."

Allie was so startled by this revelation that she unthinkingly reached for the Jhinga Biryani once more. A wave of comfort washed over her with the awful taste. Her mum hated Indian food; her father liked it, and was thrilled that she liked it, too. This was exactly the sort of conversation she would not have had with her guardian. No matter what it was like here, she reasoned, it could not be worse than what had happened on the other side of the ocean. She was going to throw herself into her life here. She was going to listen to everything Lucas had to say, and give him a fair chance to be her dad.

That worked for a couple of hours, until he asked her where her brother was.

She cocked her head in puzzlement. Lucas should have a much better idea of where Will was than she did. "Didn't he say he was going to the hospital to run DNA tests?"

The next three words hit her like three punches to the stomach. "Not Will. Johnny."

"Johnny. Johnny DiMera? My guardian's son?"

"Your brother," Lucas repeated with an earnestness that left Allie in no doubt that it was true. On some level, she must have known all along. She'd always loved Johnny. He'd always been kind to her. Before he'd left for school, they'd shared a connection that couldn't have come simply from being the same age and living in the same house.

"Johnny and I are the same age. We'd have to be—to be tw—"

"Twins, yes," said Lucas with the smallest of humorless smiles. "He wasn't born two minutes before you."

"But if you're my dad, and _he's_ Johnny's dad, and we're twins…" Allie grimaced. "Two days ago I didn't know anything about my mum. Now I know that she didn't like Indian food, and that she was a slut."

Lucas' face hardened with anger, but Allie didn't flinch. This was nothing like the uncontrolled rages to which her guardian had been prone. Besides, Allie knew enough about biology to know that it was almost impossible for a woman to conceive twins with different fathers. She wouldn't have had time to wash the sheets in between. The mother who had been on a pedestal in her mind for ten long years came crashing down to earth.

"Alice," Lucas said at last, "your mother was not a slut and I wish you wouldn't use that word."

"Was she cheating on you or on him?"

Lucas sighed, as if the question was causing him great pain. "She wasn't cheating on anyone."

"Did you have an open relationship? Was she a prostitute? Was—"

"No. No! He raped her, all right? He raped her!"

An electric shock coursed through Allie, and she jumped to her feet. "What did you say?" she demanded.

Before Lucas could answer, the door swung open to admit two women. One was Abby; one was a slightly heavy, dark-haired woman about Abby's age. "Everything okay?" Abby asked.

Allie was an expert at controlling her emotions. There had always been a lot to hide from her guardian. "Everything's fine," she told Abby smoothly. "I apologize if I startled you." Abby looked skeptical. "Please, go back to whatever it was that you were doing," Allie pressed, and Abby and her friend accepted their dismissal.

Lucas stared at Allie with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. "You certainly know how to use your manners when you want to."

Allie shrugged. "He raped her?" she whispered. The memory of EJ DiMera's hands skimming her own breasts came back to her with painful clarity. He'd raped her mother, and she looked like her mother, and his whole body had seemed so hard and taught when he'd pinned her arms and kissed her…

"She—she submitted to it to save my life. There was a snowstorm, and a beam collapsed on top of me. She couldn't lift it. He said he would only help her if she—"

"All right! That's enough," Allie interrupted, truly sick to her stomach, and not from the subpar takeaway.

"I didn't want to tell you that, but I couldn't let you think—"

"I know, I asked for it." She rushed on before Lucas could say anything more. "You asked where Johnny is. He's at school. I don't know which one for sure. He started at Eton, of course."

"_Of course,_" said Lucas, with a mocking caricature of an English accent.

"And then his father switched him. I don't know where or why. The last time I saw Johnny, he was still at Eton. Do you think there's any way to find out where?"

"If we can manage to find you, I think we can find Johnny. There's only so many schools EJ would be willing to send him, right?"

"He might have sent him somewhere on the continent."

"There's a limited number of schools even _on the continent._"

"Could he come visit here?" she asked eagerly, the words jumbling as they tumbled over one another. "Could I call him, or email him, or text him, or write to him, or— he doesn't even know we're twins! There's no way he could have known that and not told me. So if his mum was my mum and my mum was his mum, he has family here, too, doesn't he? Wouldn't they want to meet him, too? Oh, but he loves his father. He might not like hearing what his father would—well should I even tell him that he only exists because—what if he doesn't like the idea of me being his sister? He was always nice, but maybe it was because he was Master Johnny and I was the poor ward and he felt sorry for me? Not that they really treated me as a poor relation, I had the same tutors he did and neither of us did many chores and if I wanted a toy, I got it. But everyone knew he was the DiMera heir and I was the stepchild who was there because my mum had died—is my mum really dead? I'm not even sure, if you can believe that. I just remember her being there and then not, but I was so young and it was so fuzzy. I think I was sick. I know she was stroking my head like I had a fever, or maybe I only think I know that. If she's dead, where did they bury her? Could Johnny and I go visit? You don't think Johnny already knows, do you?"

When she ran out of breath, she stopped talking. "That's a lot of questions," Lucas told her.

"Are you going to answer any of them?"

"Are you sure that you're up to it now? You've had a lot to deal with."

"So none of it's good? I can't see Johnny ever again?" Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. As soon as she'd made the decision to leave the DiMera house with Theo, she'd known that she might never meet Johnny again. But sitting here, thousands of miles away, talking about Johnny made her realize the full impact of that decision.

"Hey. I didn't say that." Lucas put one finger under Allie's chin. She flinched in response. It felt too much like EJ putting his hands on her face because he wanted her mother who might or might not be dead.

Lucas pulled away from her.

"Now," he said, when Allie had blinked back the tears, "I want you and Johnny to see each other as much as you want. When we find out where he is and when we've proven that you're my daughter, I hope you get to spend a lot of time with him."

"Do you hate Johnny because of why—how—what happened?"

"No," said Lucas so firmly that Allie felt genuinely reassured. "I always thought that Johnny should have been mine. When he was born, I thought he _was_ mine. And after that, when you and he were babies, I took care of you both. I always loved how strong he seemed, like he came into this world to protect all of us."

Allie smiled. "Yeah."

"What if you get to ask one more question before bed, and the others we can get to another time?"

"I'm not tired," said Allie, even though her body was vibrating with a numb confusion.

"You can read a book or play a video game or listen to music. But I think you should lie down and try to recover for a few hours. You'll want to be able to focus tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Is that your one question?"

"No! Er, is my mum dead and if so where is she buried, and if not where is she?"

"I think you got more than one question in there. I like that. But you didn't choose an easy question."

"It seems rather simple to me. Dead or alive?"

"She's in a long term care facility in London. She's unconscious most of the time, and when she is conscious she isn't lucid."

"Is there any chance she'll ever recover?" Allie asked, not caring that this violated the one-question rule. If this man was her father, he couldn't possibly refuse to tell her.

"I've been around long enough to know that anything is possible. But I don't want you to get your hopes up, because it isn't probable. She's been there for years, and we think she's been in this… state longer. Do you remember when she left? Do you remember if she was hurt?"

"I think I was about three."

"That fits with what the doctors think."

"I don't know what happened. I think I was sick, and for a while I think I thought she was sick too and that was why I didn't see her, but she never came back."

"I'm sure she wanted to."

"So am I." Suddenly, Allie was glad that she had agreed to the one question rule. She was too raw to keep talking to a virtual stranger, and she welcomed the idea of time alone.

Half an hour later, she lay in a bed she didn't know in a room she didn't know and tried to force her agitated mind to rest. Her mind was having none of it.

Johnny was her brother; that was easy to accept, and she was sure that some part of her had always known.

Lucas Horton was her father. She'd always known that Johnny's father wasn't her father, and anyone was an improvement. She thought she could like him. This was something she could handle.

Her mother was alive, but not. That wasn't really a surprise. It made some of the things Johnny's father has said over the years make more sense.

Johnny's father had raped their mother.

Johnny's father had raped their mother, and she looked like their mother, and he had wanted to rape her too. She was sure of it. He had touched her that way because he couldn't touch her mother that way. He had groped her and it wasn't even _about_ her, even though it made her very uneasy.

Somehow, that made it worse. If someone was going to do that to her, it should at least have been about _her_. But she wasn't even worth that much, even though she was worth the security and the bodyguards and the windows that didn't open and the hired men with their chloroform and the private jet across the ocean.

She had a new life now, and she should be able to shed the skin of her old life and forget his beard against her neck and his hands on her breasts and his lips leaving a trail of saliva across her face.

She gagged, and tried to find a happy thought—Johnny is my brother, Johnny is my brother—to stop the bile rising in her throat.

It worked. "Johnny is my brother," she whispered aloud in the darkness. "Johnny is my brother. Johnny is my brother."

It was a prayer and a thank you.

_**TBC**_


	13. A Plan and a Play

**Part 13- A Plan and a Play**

The smell of curry hit Will as soon as he opened his front door, and he made a face as he tossed his keys on the table. He wanted his father to feel at home in their home—because it was *their* home, and Allie's, too—but putting up with Indian takeout was not one of the perks. Like his mother, he'd never been able to stomach it.

"You had to go Indian?" Will asked Lucas upon strolling into the living room.

Lucas wrapped Will into a hug. "It's about time I had someone on my side, after all those years of you and your mom claiming you were allergic."

"Allie's choice?"

"It was the first thing she said after we got in the car- Bukhara Indian Bistro, are they any good? I was so relieved to hear her talking that I went in and bought one of everything."

Will smiled wryly. "Of course you did. The day after you found out I was your son, you bought me a pony. Good thing you didn't drive past one of those. I don't think it would fit in here."

Lucas pretended to consider the idea. "No, I don't think we have room for a horse right now. I put Allie in my room and Abby in yours, so we're camping out down here. Tomorrow that fourth bedroom gets cleaned out for Allie, and if Allie's all right with it, we'll ship Abby off to stay with Chelsea."

"Allie's asleep, then?" Will held up a plastic bag. "I guess I'll have to give her this tomorrow."

"What is it?"

Will removed a stuffed bear from the bag with a flourish. "The newest Mr. Fuzzy. I went to five or six toy stores, but none of their bears seemed like Mr. Fuzzy. I ended up driving out to Build-A-Bear so I could get one with different colored eyes, like the one I had."

"Six stores, huh?"

"Yeah."

Lucas smirked. "Good thing you didn't decide to get her a pony. It would take you a while to get around to six stables."

"Ha ha." Will set the bear down, and almost as an afterthought handed the lab report to Lucas. "It came out like we thought."

Lucas stared at the lab report even though he didn't understand much of it. "Like she could have been anyone else. God, she looks like Sami."

"Hope she doesn't act like her," Will blurted out before he could stop himself. "Sorry," he added, before Lucas could say a word.

Lucas didn't feel up to having that particular unending argument tonight, so he settled for changing the subject. "Have you painted the walls in that room since you bought this place?"

"The little bedroom in the front? No. It was painted right before I bought it, I think. I've always used it for storage. I had my room and the guest room and the gym. I couldn't think of anything to do with it, especially since I was always at work."

"So we can just let her choose the color as soon as she gets up tomorrow morning—we'll do that first, then get a rug and a new bed, at least. I'm hoping Abby and Chelsea or maybe Belle will take Allie shopping for clothes in the afternoon, and we can set up in there while they're gone. She mentioned that the British bastard hired the same tutors for her and Johnny and that Johnny is in some elitist school for obnoxious English kids, so Allie will probably be able to start school here without any trouble—"

"Wait! Stop!" Will held up his hand. "We know where Johnny is?"

"She didn't know which school, but I think we can narrow it down, yeah. Oh, do you have a pediatrician in mind to check Allie out?"

"Yeah—"

Lucas didn't wait for further explanation. "We need to finalize the decision about where she's going to school as soon as possible so we can be sure of what supplies she needs, but we can probably put that off for a few days…"

Will sat quietly in a chair that had been one of Grandma Marlena's castoffs and adjusted the bow around the neck of the stuffed bear. Occasionally, he nodded or said "yes," and that was enough to keep his father talking enthusiastically.

Lucas hadn't been anywhere close to this happy in the long months that had passed since his release from prison. Will had never been able to make him this happy.

Will stared at the floor as a rush of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He should have tried harder. He had had years to plan for Lucas' return; he should have known that there was a way to make his father come alive with plans and energy. He shouldn't have waited for a thirteen-year-old girl to do his work for him.

Jealousy sliced through the guilt. Why was Lucas so worked up over Allie's life when he had never been anything but politely, distantly proud of Will's?

Then guilt returned. Allie was a long-lost child who desperately needed the father she had never known. Will was an adult who didn't need anything. He had no business feeling jealous of her.

But he was grateful all the same when Lucas finally stopped talking and they agreed to get a few hours' rest before putting Lucas' plans into action.

* * *

It was still the very early hours of the morning when Allie crept downstairs. She had forced herself to stay in bed for hours after the jetlag had decreed that she would not sleep any longer, even reading most of a book that had apparently been written by her cousin Abby. (The most interesting part, though, was the note Abby had written to Will inside the cover. Why had Will been in London a few years before, and why had it been such a trying experience? She thought that it must have had something to do with their mother, but she couldn't think of a way to broach the topic. Perhaps when she and Will had spent more time together?)

Despite the early hour, though, Allie found her father, brother, and Abby at the kitchen table, eating bagels and shifting through stacks of catalogues and paint samples.

"Good morning, Allie!" said Lucas cheerfully. "What color do you want your room painted?"

"My room?" asked Allie dubiously.

"Your room," Lucas repeated, as if it was silly of Allie not to have expected this. Allie stared at the rainbow of colors before her and focused in on a light turquoise color called seafoam green.

"That one." She pointed.

"Good. Shades or blinds on the windows?"

All Allie really cared about was whether or not the windows opened, but she didn't think that bringing that up was likely to achieve anything. She pointed to another picture, almost at random. "Something like that. It doesn't really matter."

"Do you want curtains?"

The idea of curtains blowing in the breeze was pleasing. "Yes."

"Color?"

"White."

The questions— about rugs, quilts, sheets, mirrors, furniture— went on for over an hour. They adjourned to the room that was to be Allie's so she could look at it while she made decisions. By the time Lucas seemed satisfied, the sun was up and the day had properly begun.

"Will and I are going to try to get everything ready today," Lucas told her, and Will nodded and smiled. "And while we're doing that, we were wondering if you'd be all right with spending some time with your Aunt Belle and your cousins."

There was a nervous feeling in the pit of Allie's stomach, but she reminded herself that she had decided not to worry about her new life when it had to be better than her old one. Hadn't she always wanted to be anywhere but at her guardian's house?

"Sure."

Lucas beamed, and Allie was reassured that she had answered correctly. "You have a very important project," he told her. "You need clothes for school… and everywhere else. Your Aunt Belle is going to make sure you get the perfect wardrobe. Anything you want. You can have anything you want."

"You never tell a teenage girl she can have whatever clothes she wants," a singsong voice interrupted teasingly.

Allie knew that this must be Belle even before Lucas called her by name and asked if Abby had let her in. Allie's other newfound relatives had all been nice to her, and it was the way they acted that made her believe that they were her family.

Belle, though, was someone Allie might have stared at if they passed on a crowded street, because Belle looked more than a little bit like Allie. Or Allie looked like Belle. Or they both looked like Allie's mother, who was Belle's sister.

"Wow," Belle breathed as her eyes locked with Allie's. "I know you told me on the phone that she looked like Sami, Lucas, but… you must be getting tired of hearing how much you look like your mom," Belle said to Allie.

"Not so far," Allie told her.

"You will. Everyone is going to say it. Are you ready to go?" Allie nodded. "I made Claire and Ciara wait in the car. They're so excited to meet you. They haven't been able to talk about anything else."

Allie was just about to ask who Claire and Ciara were (the overly broad word "cousins" seemed to apply to half the town) when Belle unexpectedly put her arms around Allie. Allie tried not to stiffen too much in the unexpected embrace.

"I'm sorry," Belle said in a voice thick with tears. "I don't want to overwhelm you, but I'm so glad you're back. We've all missed you and Johnny so much. Every time I look at my children, I remember that they should have been growing up with Sami's children. We wanted that for you, for all of you."

Allie didn't know what to say, but that didn't matter, because suddenly two teenage girls were before them. It took Allie a long second to realize that these were Claire and Ciara. She had come to the unconscious conclusion that there must not be anyone her age in her new family or her new world. She had only ever had Johnny, and now that Johnny was gone, there couldn't be anyone else. It all made sense.

The taller, older girl turned out to be Belle's daughter Claire. Claire's strawberry blonde curls were pulled into a long French braid, and she had the kind of confident grace Allie wished she had.

The dark-haired, pixie-faced girl, Ciara, was almost as short as Allie and had an overabundance of energy. Ciara kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions as they went from store to store, and while Allie was slightly taken aback, she was also grateful. Ciara was always on to the next subject before anything could get awkward.

Allie didn't have much experience with choosing clothes. EJ had always done that for her. She accepted Belle's theories on what colors and styles were best, and Claire and Ciara's assertions that everyone at school had one of *these*, but no one had one of *those*.

The only trying moment came at the end of the day when Belle announced that Allie needed a bra.

"Wish I needed one as much as she does," said Ciara. Claire hit Ciara over the head with a pair of tights that had been on display nearby.

Allie blushed, not so much at Ciara's commentary as because she had never worn a bra before. That was something her guardian had never purchased. She was grateful for that; he probably would have insisted on helping her try it on. She blushed, then felt sick, wondering if the salesperson was going to fuss over the fit of the bra the way others had fussed over the fit of skirts and jackets. (Belle was of the opinion that Allie had to try *everything* on until she knew more about what she liked and what fit.)

Claire misinterpreted Allie's blush. "She meant it as a compliment," she said soothingly.

"I did," agreed Ciara anxiously. "Is it because you're English and the English don't talk about things like bras?"

"She's not English," said Claire.

"She has an English accent," said Ciara.

"That doesn't make her English," said Claire. "And you don't know that the English don't talk about bras."

"You don't know that they do."

"They would have to, sometimes, or none of them would ever wear them."

Belle put her hand on Allie's arm. "Why don't we just leave them here and pretend we don't know them?" she suggested.

Claire and Ciara both exploded with laughter and hurried to catch up with Belle and Allie.

"We'll be quiet."

"Like you could ever be quiet."

"Like you're any better."

"What's bothering you?" Belle asked gently, and suddenly Claire and Ciara really were quiet.

"Does the salesperson have to put it—have to check to see how it fits?" Allie mumbled at last.

The sympathetic look on Belle's face made Allie feel even worse. "No, sweetheart, she doesn't. You can go into the changing room alone, and no one else has to look. Just tell me which you want me to buy, and that will be it."

It was almost worth going into the changing room with a handful of things she wasn't entirely sure how to put on to escape from the odd way Claire and Ciara were looking at her. She hated the mirrors and the glowing lights and her hovering entourage.

Claire and Ciara, meanwhile, had started playing truth or dare. After Ciara pulled the largest bra she could find over her head like a hat, Belle decreed that they were only allowed to play truth or go wait in the car.

Truth or go wait in the car wasn't such a bad game considering how little Allie and her cousins knew about each other. Allie learned that Claire was the only diver on her school's swim team and that Ciara's father sometimes called her his rebel without a clue. Claire had had a liver transplant as a baby and still took anti-rejection medication; Ciara had the best singing voice in the family and could usually memorize the lyrics to a song after hearing it only once.

"Best day ever?" asked Ciara as Allie's trial finally ended and Belle went off to return what hadn't fit and purchase what had.

Claire talked about a trip that she and her parents and brother had taken to Paris the summer before.

Allie told them about sneaking out of her guardian's house and meeting Theo on the roof. Claire and Ciara knew Theo and were an excellent audience; they gasped and giggled in exactly the right places, and told Allie that her taste in crushes was excellent.

"What about you?" Allie asked Ciara as they wandered toward the register where Belle was waiting in line.

Ciara spoke in a hushed voice. "Once, when I was twelve," she began, making *twelve* sound like it was a world away from her current fourteen, "my mother moved in with a man who liked to have sex with twelve year olds. She didn't know at the time, of course. And then I walked up to her boyfriend in front of a hundred people who all knew, and they gasped and stared at me. None of them could keep their eyes off of me. It was great."

"It was great?" Allie asked around the lightness in her head and the lump in her throat. She didn't want to imagine having a hundred people know what EJ had done to her, and she was certain that it wouldn't be great. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Did he ever—did he—what did your mum do? Does everyone at your school know? Does— is he still around?"

It was Claire who answered, because Ciara seemed unexpectedly speechless. "She was in a play in Chicago last summer. It's about a woman who confronts the man who had sex with her when she was twelve. He tells her that he never did anything like that again, but then at the end Ciara's character walks out. Ciara's an actress. It was a play, it wasn't real."

Allie felt heat rush to her face. This was worse than talking about someone helping her put on a bra. It didn't matter that she had decided not to tell. People knew. People thought it was a joke.

She had only just managed to make herself stop blushing when Aunt Belle returned and told them that their shopping day was over.

* * *

When Allie had been dropped off at Will's house and Ciara had been dropped off at her parents' house, Claire climbed from the backseat to the front and watched her mother as she steered the car to the Kiriakis Mansion.

"Long day, huh, baby?" Belle asked. She took her right hand from the steering wheel and caressed Claire's cheek. "What do you think of Allie?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that," said Claire carefully, relieved that her mother had given her the opening.

"Is something wrong?"

"Philip told me that if anything happened with Allie, anything strange, I had to come to him. But I don't think I can say this to him, or to Daddy."

Belle's blue eyes flickered with concern. "Say what?"

"Ciara told Allie about the play she was in—the one with the child molester."

"Blackbird."

"Right. Except she said it like it happened to her, not like she was an actress, and Allie got really upset."

"Upset how?"

"She was asking all these questions, and her voice was shaking, her whole body was shaking, and she got all… blushy, and you know how it looked like she was scared when you told her about getting a bra and she didn't want anyone to touch her. Philip told Ci and me that Allie had a rough life and we shouldn't ask about it, but did EJ DiMera rape her?"

_**TBC**_


	14. Cooling

**Part 14-Cooling**

The first conversation was between Belle and Philip. Belle repeated Claire's suspicions and demanded to know whether Philip had failed to warn her that her niece had been sexually abused before she took her shopping to have her body pawed by half a dozen strangers. Philip denied all knowledge.

The second conversation was between Belle, Philip and Abby. Abby, furious with herself for not broaching the subject sooner, confirmed that Allie had specifically denied being raped, but had all but admitted to molestation. Philip blamed Abby for not reporting what she knew to Allie's family sooner. Abby retorted that it surely wouldn't have slipped her mind if Philip's thugs hadn't drugged and kidnapped her an hour after her conversation with Allie. Belle ended up pointedly asking Abby to leave.

The third conversation was between Philip and Lucas. There was a great deal of swearing, and some breaking of inanimate objects.

"I won't miss this time," Lucas said when he regained his ability to speak coherently. "I'll aim for his head. Can you get me a gun?"

"Easily," said Philip, but he didn't move or offer further explanation.

"Well?"

Philip's fists were clenched, and he stared at a framed snapshot of a younger Claire riding a carousel horse. "What did Mom always tell us?"

"Always follow the money? Never date a woman without my approval? What's that got to do with anything?"

"I meant, revenge is a dish best served cold."

Lucas shook his head. "No way. He did it to Sami and he did it to Allie and he'll do it again if he isn't stopped."

"I agree."

"You've got a hell of a way of showing it."

"My niece just got her father back. I'd hate to see her orphaned because he made the same damn mistake—and by mistake I mean getting caught—that he made when she was a baby."

"I'd rather die or go back to prison than know that he's out there, walking around free, probably attacking someone else's daughter."

"And I'd rather we got rid of him without you dying or going back to prison."

"It's not your decision!" Lucas snapped. He pulled the picture of Claire from Philip's hand and threw it to the floor. The glass frame shattered. "Allie is my daughter, not yours! And don't tell me that you have a daughter and you know what it would be like. I've seen Claire and Ciara running around, hugging everyone they see, talking about anything at a hundred miles an hour. They're smart and they're talented and they're loved and they know it. And then there's my kid, who hardly ever says a word and spends all her time worrying that someone's about to attack her."

Philip knelt to rescue the photograph from the shards of glass. He swore as he cut his finger, and stormed into the bathroom to rinse the blood away.

A few seconds later, Philip's cell phone began to buzz.

"Look at the caller ID and see if that's from New Orleans," Philip ordered.

Feeling slightly guilty for destroying the frame, Lucas obeyed. The caller ID showed an area code of 504. "It is," he called to Philip.

"All right. Shit! Answer it, will you?"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Mr. Kiriakis' line," he said with as little sarcasm as possible. "This is his secretary."

"I thought this was Philip's cell phone," said a hard-edged female voice.

"It is. He's been called away—"

"He promised that this would be sorted out today. Tell him that _Vieux Carre_ can find another publishing house—"

Suddenly, Lucas remembered why he'd known the New Orleans area code without thinking. _Vieux Carre_ had been one of the first magazines Titan had ever published. The earliest issues had run alongside the earliest issues of Titan's own fashion magazine, _Bella_. "Marianne!" he exclaimed, now recognizing the voice of the editor. "Philip will be here in a few seconds. He didn't want to miss your call. I don't think you'd remember me, but I'm his brother, Lucas."

Marianne's entire tone changed. "Lucas! As if I could forget you, forget the way you let our bill slide those first months when our biggest advertiser pulled out. No one has ever been as generous or as creative since then."

"You say that to all your business contacts."

"Just you, Lucas, just you. I've always been grateful."

"All I did was know a good investment when I saw it. You were back in the black by the end of the year."

Philip returned with a band-aid around his finger and a calculating look on his face. Lucas made to hand him the phone, but Philip waved him off, then made a "keep going" gesture.

"Yes, we were. If only it were so easy to recover from our missteps in the current market."

"Are we taking about a particular misstep?"

There was a scornful laugh. "I don't need to tell you that most magazines are supported by their online content, and that the hard copies we print are printed at great expense and largely for their advertising value."

"I understand that."

"So when a publishing house misdirects an entire issue, the ramifications can last far beyond one month."

Lucas winced. "You have my deepest apologies, and my brother's. All of Titan's. And we can certainly discuss a more practical expression of our regret."

"Two free months with your compliments."

"One free month, since next month is the biggest month of the year, with extra compliments."

"Agreed."

Now Philip reached for the phone, and Lucas handed it over. He didn't listen as Philip finalized the deal; instead, he began to collect the broken glass from the floor and wondered how in the world he was going to help Allie. Therapy was a given as a starting point; Sami had never had enough professional help. Will would know someone trustworthy. But how could he keep Allie from refusing the way Sami had?

He dumped the glass in a wastebasket and sent the most repulsive text message he could imagine:  
_  
Will, we need a therapist who specializes in molested children._

He knew that he should have spoken to Will in person, like Philip had spoken to him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at his son, or even listen to his voice. It was bad enough that he would have to look at Allie and know what had been done to her because of his failures as a parent.

Eight-year-old Claire was still beaming happily from her carousel horse. Lucas tapped the fragile image with one finger.

"I'll get you a new frame," he said to Philip by way of goodbye.

"Don't worry about it."

Lucas reached for the door.

"Two things," said Philip when Lucas' hand was on the knob.

Lucas waited.

"First, when you're ready, we need to discuss you coming back to Titan."

"I don't need a pity job, Phil. Victor left me a pity inheritance, remember?"

Philip ignored him. "That account was GONE until you got a hold of Marianne. No one else is going to hire you because of that gap in employment history and because you're my brother and I'm very important."

Lucas didn't laugh. He was pretty sure that Philip wasn't joking, and that it was this attitude that led him into a shouting match with Billie every time they were in a room together.

"But you're valuable to me and to Titan. I can take the time to get the rust off of you because you have every reason to be loyal when you're up to speed. You're already calling Titan 'we.' And I need people who aren't afraid of me to argue with me in case I'm wrong. It's why I keep Billie around. But we'll discuss that when you have more of a handle on Allie's situation."

"Oh, we will?"

"We will. Second, if you ever want to talk about Allie, I'm here. I'm not going to pretend that I know what this is like for you, and you shouldn't pretend that I don't know what it's like to worry about a child."

* * *

_  
Will, we need a therapist who specializes in molested children._

The sick feeling in Will's stomach was strange, but familiar.

He was used to bad news delivered in sterile, impersonal words. It was how he liked best to receive bad news, in fact; he was glad that Lucas had spared him his usual "face to face is best" routine.

Still, his stomach turned at the official notification that his worst fear for Allie was a reality.

(Well, strictly speaking, "sexually assaulted by EJ" had been pretty much third after "murdered by EJ" and "brainwashed into becoming a child assassin by EJ." But it still counted as worst.)

He sighed and pulled a hospital directory from a filing cabinet. Most psychiatrists he eliminated as too inexperienced, too indiscreet, or inappropriate for Allie. He was left with two adequate choices. Time to call in the second opinion.

One button to delete his father's message. Two more buttons to call his grandmother, in Switzerland or Sweden or wherever she and John were now.

Even though Marlena consulted on cases only rarely, she always knew everyone in the department of psychiatry. Sometimes, she knew more about what was going on there than Will did.

Will kept his questions vague; he didn't want his grandmother to guess that he was looking for a therapist for his sister. If Marlena wanted to know what was going on in Allie's life, she could come to Salem and meet Allie.

Her assessment of the finalists was the same as Will's; Dr. Medy, they agreed, was the best choice. Will went straight to Dr. Medy's office and asked that he take on Allie as a patient even though he was not officially accepting new patients. Will's request was granted. Even though he'd been a member of the hospital family for seven years, it seemed surreal to Will each time someone went out of his or her way for him.

Will texted Lucas:

_Done._

* * *

Lucas glanced at Will's message and marveled at his son's knowledge and efficiency. Lucas had no doubt that Will had made the perfect decision. That was one thing he didn't have to worry about as he knocked on the closed door of Allie's newly decorated room.

"Come in," Allie answered.

_**TBC**_


	15. Turnaround

**Part 15-Turnaround**

The first thing Lucas noticed when he entered Allie's room was that it was freezing. Both windows were open, and the November wind whistled in through one and out through the other.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked as he slammed the windows shut without permission. The heating bill was going to be ridiculous—not that he minded, but if Allie really needed her room to be this temperature, there were more practical ways of going about it.

"Not really," said Allie, though she was shivering a bit in the heavy pink sweater Belle had chosen for her the day before.

Lucas spared a moment to wonder if Allie had been smoking and tried to cover the smell by opening the window, then vetoed the idea; she hadn't had the time to get her hands on anything forbidden. Either way, this wasn't the time for that discussion.

"You and I need to have a conversation, and I don't think it will be easy for either of us."

"Worse than talking about EJ raping my mum and Johnny being my twin?" asked Allie, not unreasonably.

"Different. But still hard." Allie nodded with a wisdom beyond her years, and Lucas knew that he would never have a better opportunity. He couldn't chicken out now, anyway. Allie needed help, and she wasn't going to ask for it. She shouldn't have to ask for it. "I don't think that your mother was the only one EJ hurt like that. I know you told Abby that he didn't rape you."

Allie's feet had been curled underneath her; now they hit the floor simultaneously and she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. "This is none of your business," she told Lucas.

"You're my daughter. I'm not saying that you can't have any privacy, but if something is hurting you—"

"He's not even here!" Allie interrupted.

"But sometimes it feels like he is, doesn't it?" Lucas asked quietly. He hadn't planned what to say; he hadn't been able to. Now he let the moment take over and hoped he was going in the right direction. "When you went shopping yesterday, it wasn't as much fun for you as it would have been if he'd never touched you, right? He's still affecting your life. Wouldn't it be better if he wasn't?"

"I'm working on it."

"I'd like it if you had someone to help you. Help you in ways your family can't."

Allie looked at him blankly.

"You're not the first person this ever happened to. There are therapists who went to school to learn how to help girls in your situation. If you had one, you could say anything. It would be private. You wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone, or who you could trust, or having to see the person you talked to at dinner."

Allie pulled a blue sweater on over the pink one. Lucas couldn't see her face when she said, "I don't want to talk about it. I want to forget about it."

"Rotten things have a way of not letting themselves be forgotten. Sometimes it's easier to learn how to work around them."

Allie looked him square in the eye. "What if I don't like the therapist?"

"We'll fire ones you don't like until we find one you do like."

"Did you already pick one?"

"Will did. He works at the hospital and he chose the one he thought would be best for you."

"Who else knows, besides Will and you?"

"None of us know anything, Allie, because you haven't told us. Abby suspected, and Claire suspected and told her mother, and Belle told Philip. Philip told me and I told Will. I don't know anything other than that Abby and Claire came up with the same theory, but I notice that you haven't denied anything."

"So people can tell by looking." Allie's voice had a horrible ring of resignation.

"No. Abby guessed because she worked in a hospital in Africa where she saw women who had been sexually assaulted fifty times a week and then you showed up with bruises on your arms and mouth. I don't know how Claire guessed, but I do know that her parents haven't told her that she was right. Was she right?" Allie had already confirmed everything in a roundabout way, but Lucas had to be sure that she wasn't omitting crucial facts the way Sami would have at her age—or any age.

"It wasn't that—he only kissed me once. But he was always making excuses to touch me on my legs and my…" Allie gestured at her chest. "I hated it. But I never really told him to stop, I never fought until the last time."

"You never should have had to fight. And if you don't believe me, I hope you believe this doctor. Are you willing to give it a try?"

"Will the doctor make it so people can't tell by looking?"

"People can't tell now. I didn't know until you told me, and telling me was brave, Allie. It was the right thing to do, because so many people want to help you. Abby does. Claire does. Will and I want it more than anything in the world. Maybe the doctor can help you believe that."

Allie shrugged.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Lucas reached to hug his daughter, but stopped himself at the last minute. Now that he knew what the last man who had purported to be Allie's father had done, he wasn't sure that he would ever feel right about touching her without an engraved invitation.

* * *

To Lucas' utter surprise and delight, Allie didn't reopen the subject after her first session with Dr. Medy, or her second, or her third. If anything, she seemed to enjoy her appointments—though Lucas didn't pry.

The only information Allie volunteered was that she and Dr. Medy had discussed the reaction of some of her classmates at Salem Middle School to Allie's accent, and that Allie had decided that she wanted to adopt an American accent. It wasn't, Allie assured Lucas, that she was going to let the opinions of other girls run her life, but rather that she didn't want to talk like her captor when she could talk like her new family instead.

It turned out that Ciara had worked with a dialect coach when she'd acted in a commercial two years before. Hope provided the phone number; the coach promptly made room in her schedule for Allie. Lucas didn't like to admit that he was thrilled to hear Allie sounding less and less like the man who had destroyed his family thirteen years before.

When Allie had been in Salem for three weeks, Lucas received an email from Dr. Medy asking if he and Will would join Allie at her appointment. Lucas happily cut short his meeting with Marianne of Vieux Carre. (Marianne was in town on other business, but she and Lucas had managed a thoroughly enjoyable get-together in her hotel room. Lucas was really enjoying working with Titan again. It had perks he hadn't imagined.)

Will, though, looked anything but happy when their paths intersected near Dr. Medy's office.

"Rough day, Bud?" Lucas asked.

Will sighed, put-upon, like he had when he'd been Allie's age and his parents had been summoned to a meeting at his school. "No worse than usual."

Lucas glanced around to assure himself that they were safe from prying ears. "You always seemed to love working here."

"I like it here just fine!" Will snapped, and then shook his head as if trying to rid himself of his irritation. "Sorry, Dad. You know I don't like talking things to death, and I *really* don't like talking things to death with some kind of facilitator who is doing it as a favor to me."

"A favor to you?"

"Dr. Medy doesn't take on new patients."

Lucas raised his eyebrows, impressed by the pull his son had in the hospital. Will always played down the extent of his success and popularity. Since Will didn't seem comfortable with this topic, Lucas searched for a new one. "Things go well with your patients today?"

Will nodded at a sign which reminded health care professionals not to discuss patients in public areas. "Fine."

"Do you have many more today?"

"No."

"Do you have plans tonight, or do you want to go to Buddy's Burger Barn with Allie and me?"

"At least it's burgers and not Indian," said Will, making a face at the thought. "The house still smells like it from the last time you and Allie got it. Makes me want to throw up every time I come in the front door."

Allie turned the corner with her backpack over one shoulder and a folder of papers in her hand. "You don't like Indian food?" she asked. A worried look crossed her round face.

"He doesn't, but that's his problem, not ours," Lucas said. He started to drape an arm around Allie's shoulder, like he would have done with Will while winding Sami up, but stopped himself at the last moment.

Allie's eyes shifted between Lucas and Will.

"It's a running joke," Will said, but he didn't sound amused. "Mom hated it, Dad loves it, so when they were fighting—this is when I was younger than you—Dad would eat it to annoy her. It doesn't really make me sick."

Allie looked unconvinced, but led the way through the reception area to a smiling receptionist who waved them into Dr. Medy's office.

Allie greeted Dr. Medy familiarly; Lucas warmly; Will stiffly.

"It's not going to be that bad, Dr. Horton," Dr. Medy informed Will.

Will murmured something polite and professional, but the expression on his face didn't change.

"I've asked you both to come here today because Allie needs to say some things to you, and she isn't sure how to do it."

"You can tell us anything," Lucas said hastily, leaning toward Allie as if ready to defend her from unseen attackers.

"See what I mean?" Allie asked Dr. Medy.

Lucas looked back and forth between his daughter and her doctor. "What do you mean? What does she mean?"

Dr. Medy smiled, and Lucas relaxed slightly. That the doctor found this somehow entertaining probably meant that Allie's therapy was progressing as well as he'd hoped it would.

"Allie," said Dr. Medy, "your dad expressed concern for your well-being and wants you to know that you can trust him to help you with any kind of problem. Is that something that upsets you?"

For the first time, Lucas noticed that Allie had a way of rolling her eyes without actually rolling them. _Boy, are you all idiots,_ her face seemed to say._ I only put up with you out of pity._

Lucas recognized the look. Will had worn it for all of his adolescence.

It was a relief to see Allie behaving like a typical teenager for once.

"Answer the question please, Allie," Dr. Medy prompted.

"It does not upset me that he wants me to know that I can trust him," Allie answered flatly.

Lucas made to assure Allie that she could, really, always, but Dr. Medy held up a hand for silence. "Now, Allie, why did you ask me if I saw what you meant just now?"

Allie smirked. "Why did you stop him," she nodded at Lucas, "from talking just now?"

Dr. Medy did not take whatever bait Allie was offering. "Because we asked him here to have a very specific conversation, and I don't want to go off on a tangent. Now, tell us why you reacted as you did when your dad promised that you can tell him anything?"

A shrug. "It's all he ever says. One way or another, everything he says comes back to that. Will, too."

"And why does that bother you?"

"Because I wish they'd treat me like a real person, not like I'm made of glass! I wish Will would tell me that he hates Indian food and doesn't want me eating it in his house. I wish my… dad… wouldn't jump away from me like I'm poisonous every time he starts to touch me and changes his mind. I wish we could talk without everyone thinking about how fragile I am."

"Dr. Horton, why don't you respond to that first?" said Dr. Medy.

Will looked at his sister as if he had never seen her before. "I hate Indian food, but I want you to eat it in my house, which is your house, too."

Will was not inclined to touch the less concrete issues Allie had raised, so Dr. Medy moved on to Lucas.

"Oh, I'm allowed to talk now?" asked Lucas, but his almost shaky tone undercut the sarcasm of his words.

Will felt his blood pressure shoot up at the barely perceptible tremor in Lucas' voice. His intense dislike for talking everything to death was suddenly overwhelmed by the instinct to protect his father.

"No," he interrupted Lucas. "You can't talk now, because first we need to discuss why you would encourage Allie's delusion that Indian food isn't disgusting. I just hope that taking her to Buddy's Burger Barn tonight helps her develop more appropriate tastes. It should be a good start, at least."

Lucas and Allie both laughed, to Will's immense relief. Their laughter was fake and forced, but it would do.

"And Allie," Will added in the same breath, before he lost his nerve, "You can't expect Dad and I to already be over finding out that you spent your whole life locked up with the man who raped Mom and that we didn't do anything to help you. We don't know you very well and we don't want to hurt you, so we overcompensate. You look so much like Mom—I know you're tired of hearing about that—and she was… you kind of had to walk on eggshells around her when she was upset, or she would freak out. And when she freaked out, she did dumb things, like divorcing Dad to marry EJ and letting him get his hands on you and Johnny."

"I don't like it when you talk about your mother that way," said Lucas automatically. He seemed to have recovered from the blow of Allie's complaint.

Will shrugged. "Why? I didn't say I hate her. I didn't say she hurt us on purpose. I said she did stupid things when she was upset, and she did!" He glanced at Allie, who was listening with rapt attention. "When I was about your age, she came to my class's Halloween party and started a food fight."

"Really?" asked Allie, her face alight with interest. "Why?"

"It's almost impossible to tell who started a food fight," Lucas defended.

Will stared hard at his father.

"Not like you weren't throwing food, too, Bud," Lucas added. Then he sighed. "Okay, she might have had a lot to do with it escalating as much as it did. But to answer your question, Allie, our family was in the newspaper a lot at the time because there had been a series of… attacks. They thought a serial killer was out there, and your mother was accused. Wrongly, of course. Some of the other parents in Will's class brought it up.

"And to answer your other question, I don't entirely agree with what Will said about your mother, but he's right that knowing that someone hurt you like EJ DiMera did makes it hard for me to say or do anything that might cause you more pain. Sometimes when I look at you, I don't see your mother, but I see the baby you were the first time I saw you. I remember when I held you on the day you were born, and when you looked at me I felt like you were warning me that this wasn't going to be easy. I wanted you to be wrong. I was only 19 when Will was born, and by the time he was five he was more mature than I was. I let him be a partner, or a parent, instead of a kid. I didn't want to do that to you, too."

"I don't feel like you did anything to me," said Will quietly. "You didn't take anything from me. If EJ had never showed up…"

"You don't feel that way, but I do. Which is no excuse to go to the other extreme with Allie." With effort, he switched his attention from his son to his daughter. "I'll try to shelter you less, but you have to promise to let me know when it's getting to be too much."

"I promise," said Allie. "Can we start with you being honest about whether or not you're looking for Johnny?"

"You don't waste time."

Allie shrugged.

"Yes, we're looking for Johnny. Getting closer, too."

"Are you going to chloroform him and drag him here like you did me?"

"The chloroform will be a last resort. I had no idea they were planning to do that with you."

"Can I write him a note telling him not to worry?"

Lucas' throat tightened for the second time that day. "Yes," he told her. "That's a great idea."

* * *

Theo Carver was leaning against the wall not far from Dr. Medy's office when Allie, Lucas, and Will exited. Will assumed that Theo must have charmed some nursing assistant or clerical worker into telling him where Will had gone; Theo was too talented for his own good that way.

It only took a second for Will to realize that Theo was awaiting someone else.

"Theo!" Allie squealed, and jumped into Theo's arms. Theo gave her a big hug.

"How are things going?"

"Good!" Allie started to chatter so fast that Will couldn't properly make out what she was saying. He narrowed his eyes at Theo, who eventually noticed and detached himself from Allie.

"Hey, Will." Theo held out his hand to Will, as he had a thousand times before, but this time Will brushed it aside.

"Allie, can you give me a minute with Theo?" His voice was colder than he had meant it to be, but hadn't Allie just gotten through explaining that she didn't want to be handled with kid gloves?

Allie eyed them suspiciously, but obediently moved closer to Lucas as Will pulled Theo around the corner. "For God's sake, Theo, she's thirteen years old!" Will snarled. "She's thirteen years old and she was held captive by a sociopath sex offender for most of her life!"

Theo crossed his arms over his chest. "The only reason I don't kick your ass for saying that is because I know how much you worry about her."

"Sorry," Will muttered begrudgingly.

"You should be. I'm not a good guy—not like my dad—but I'm not a pedophile. I just like to check up on the children I rescue from time to time."

"You know she has a crush on you?" Will prompted, not offering a real apology even though he knew he should.

"I'm not gonna hurt her. I just want her to have as many people in her corner as she can. That's it."

Will nodded, feeling deflated, but pleasantly so. Snapping at Theo had released some of the tension that had been building for days. The tension returned as quickly as it had gone, though, when he caught sight of a red ponytail out of the corner of his eye.

Theo followed Will's gaze. "That's Dr. Wesley's daughter?"

"That's her."

"How're things going with you improving her," and here Theo's tone became suggestive "bedside manner?"

"I think I liked it better when it wasn't going so well. We had a real conversation a few weeks ago and now she smiles at me." Will admitted before he could stop himself. The therapy session must have lowered his defenses. Will liked Theo a lot and he knew that the feeling was mutual. Still, he wasn't up for talking about Joy with anyone. He was almost certain that Theo's assessment of the situation would be similar to Lucas' assessment.

"Damn," said Theo with mock sympathy. "I hate it when hot redheads smile at me."

Will didn't bother explaining why, exactly, it was so unnerving to see Joy looking at him the way she suddenly did, or how he wasn't sure he could train her properly. Instead, he changed the subject. "Want to come to Buddy's Burger Barn with Dad and Allie and me? You know Allie would love it if you came."

"Can't. Another time?"

"Sure." Again, Will's mouth spoke without his brain's consent. "You think Joy is hot?"

Theo didn't answer, which was just as well.

* * *

They were still debating the merits of Buddy's three-cheese classic with mushrooms versus onions when Allie produced a letter which she announced should be delivered to Johnny should Philip's men track him down.

The letter was written in a still-childish scrawl on pale blue paper decorated with sparkling stickers. "Johnny probably won't like the stickers," Allie admitted. "But at least he'll know it's from me."

Will read the letter over Lucas' shoulder.

_Dear Johnny,_

I know that when you get this, you will be scared, even though you won't admit it, not even to yourself.

I want you to know that I am okay, and you will be okay, too. These men work for my mother's family. They won't hurt you, but they will do whatever they have to do to get you to come with them. They're going to bring you to me, but you won't have to stay if you don't want to.

I would tell you this some other way, so you would know that this is real, but I don't know your email address or your mobile number, or even where you are.

I can't wait to see you.

Love,

Allie

"Do you think it's all right?" Allie asked anxiously.

"I think it's perfect," said Lucas, and he wrapped his arm around Allie as Will tugged playfully on her long hair.

**_TBC_**


	16. Home For Christmas

**Chapter 16: Home for Christmas**

Johnny DiMera didn't like playing tennis on an indoor court, but two weeks before Christmas, there was nothing else for it. There was only the lightest dusting of snow outside, but it was far too cold and windy to practice.

After an hour of drills, running, and playing, his white shirt was soaked with sweat. He didn't care for the appearance of a white shirt after it had been soaked through, but he was mindful that the girls who were pretending not to watch him from the bleachers had a different opinion.

All of them were two or three years older than Johnny, which was excellent; most thirteen-year-old girls weren't sure yet that they wanted to give up their dolls for cootie-ridden boys. Johnny was tall for his age, and that worked in his favor with girls. So did the money. And the confidence. And the fact that he could whip anyone from the sixth years on down on a tennis court—even one that was inside.

He strolled by them on his way to the showers and smiled slowly. They giggled. "We'll talk about what's so funny when I'm done in the shower," he told them, and they giggled harder. He had no doubt that they would wait for him.

The locker room was quiet when he entered it. He had just kicked off his trainers when a sharp sound echoed off of tile and metal. Instinctively, he knew that noise. It was a deadbolt sliding into place.

"Who's there?" Johnny called.

Four men—all of them tall, strong, and fully grown— approached Johnny and surrounded him. Johnny stood perfectly still. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and decided that he was projecting just the right image of bored unconcern.

He knew what this was about, of course. The world was full of people who were jealous of Father. Father had always been concerned that Johnny might be kidnapped by a business rival or even by someone who was hard up and looking for some quick cash. That was why Father had pulled Johnny out of Eton after half a term—some crooked ISA agent who happened to be an alumnus had been snooping around, privy to information that Father had wanted kept private.

"Johnny DiMera?" the biggest, toughest-looking man asked.

"Santo d'Antoni," Johnny corrected smoothly. Probably they wouldn't buy his lie, but he had to waste as much time as possible. The longer it took these goons to wrestle him out of here, the more chance there was that they would be interrupted.

The man laughed. "Funny how those girls out there called you Johnny."

"They aren't the brightest girls in the school. They have other assets."

The second-biggest, second-toughest man handed the first a folded sheet of paper. When the leader unfolded it, Johnny saw that it was a photocopy of the "Faces Book" handed out to all students. Included was the photograph used for each student's ID card. Father had tried to keep Johnny's picture from appearing in the book, but the school had insisted that Johnny was a part of the school community and his professors and classmates should be able to identify him.

"Fine," said Johnny. "I'm Johnny DiMera. What can I do for you?"

"We have a message for you. It's from Allie Horton."

Johnny's heart leapt. The single hardest thing about being away at school—harder even than separation from Father—was separation from Allie. But Allie couldn't have sent four men to fetch him. Allie didn't know anyone beyond the walls of Father's townhouse. He and Allie hadn't even emailed since he'd left Eton (something about a problem with the internet connection at Father's house).

He took the offered square of blue paper. His heart gave a second jolt as soon as he touched it. The handwriting, the stickers, and the words were Allie's. He could feel her presence in all of them. Even if Allie had been forced to write the letter— but a strange sixth sense told him she hadn't— there was no question now of what Johnny would do. He had to go to Allie and assure himself that she was safe.

His eyes scanned over Allie's instructions a final time:

_They won't hurt you, but they will do whatever they have to do to get you to come with them._

Right, then. No sense in letting the hired thugs muss his hair.

He pointed at the door. "Lead the way, then, gentlemen."

The men exchanged a slightly look of surprise, and Johnny was inwardly pleased. He had thrown four grown men off of their game, if only for a moment. Father would be proud.

The men didn't answer many of Johnny's questions as they hustled him off campus and onto a small jet parked on a landing strip. He gathered that they were going to America, to a town called Salem where Father had some business holdings.

The flight across the ocean seemed interminable, and by the time the jet touched down on the America's Atlantic coast to refuel, Johnny was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He'd gotten a good workout in just before the ambush, and the ambush had been more draining than ten hours of tennis. The four most boring thugs on the planet weren't doing anything but monitoring his every move. He gave in and let himself fall asleep before the second takeoff.

When he awoke, the jet was on the ground again and a soft hand was gently patting his face. He blinked sleepily. "Allie?"

"Yeah."

For a minute, he thought that he must have imagined the jet and the guards and even school. He was back home, and Allie had come into his bedroom to tell him that Father had sent out for pastries for breakfast.

It was a nice thought, but it didn't last. He was still strapped into the leather seat of the jet, with his head leaning on the window, through which he could see a dusty warehouse.

But Allie really was perched on the seat beside him, sitting on her knees and gazing at him intently. As far as Johnny could tell, they were alone, but he was too smart to believe that the guards weren't somewhere just out of sight.

His hands fumbled numbly with the seatbelt until Allie reached over and unfastened it for him. She offered him her hand to help him stumble into the aisle, and once he had, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned the hug.

"I've missed you," he told her.

"Not like I've missed you," she said fervently. "Were they nice to you? They didn't hurt you?"

"You really sent them?"

Allie shrugged. "I didn't send them, but I knew they'd find you. They found me."

"Who are they?"

"They work for… I guess they work for my Uncle Philip. My dad—my mom—there's something you need to know before we go out there."

"I need to know everything before we go out there," he corrected. Knowledge was power, especially when you'd just been kidnapped, even if Allie was remarkably blasé about the whole kidnapping thing.

"Too much. It'd take days to tell you." Johnny started to challenge her assessment, but Allie ignored him. "My mom—did your father ever tell you about your mother?"

"She died when I was born. Then he married your mum. You know that."

Allie shook her head slowly. "No. My mom is your mom. We're twins, Johnny."

"No," Johnny said before he could think, but everything in him screamed that Allie was telling the truth. For one thing, Allie didn't lie. For another thing, the pull that he felt to Allie, that was absolutely unlike the pull he felt to every other girl his age but more intense in its way, suddenly made sense. And then there were the fuzzy memories of being a toddler in Allie's mother's arms. He knew he'd called her "Mummy."

Allie stared at the floor with her hair hiding her face. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it," she murmured.

"That's not what I meant!" Johnny corrected. "Of course you're my sister, you've always been my sister, but you can't tell me that Father would lie to me about that. Or to you? If you're his daughter—wait, you said that your dad—"

"Same mother. Different fathers."

"You mean like with dogs?" Johnny asked with disgust.

"That was sort of how I felt too," said Allie blithely, and Johnny was sure that she was omitting something. But she grabbed him by the hand and led him off the plane, past the thugs who stood with their arms crossed and to a door behind which a group of people were talking.

Johnny tightened his grip on Allie's hand until she squealed. "What?"

"Let's just listen for a moment," he whispered. "Do you know them?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "They're our family, we don't have to eavesdrop—"

"The woman. Who is she?"

"Aunt Belle. Mom's sister. She looks a lot like me, it's really weird."

"The man with her?"

"Shawn. Her husband."

"Holding the bag?"

"Will. Johnny, he's our brother, he's a doctor, probably he'll want to do a DNA test on you, but he'll just take your hair. That's what he did with me."

Johnny started to protest that there was no way that man was any relation to him, but bit his tongue. Allie wasn't going to want to hear it. These people were enemies of Father's, and they had brainwashed an impressionable girl into believing that they were her long-lost family. He was going to get himself out of here, and he was going to get Allie out of here, but he couldn't start by picking a fight.

"The last one?"

"He's my dad. Lucas Horton." Allie's eyes sparkled, and Johnny knew that his theory was correct. Father had hardly treated Allie as a poor relation, but Allie had always wanted some sort of fairy godmother to sweep in and carry her off. She had watched far too many Disney films as a small child. It probably hadn't been hard for these people to convince her that she belonged in some foreign land, far from Father. Then they had used her to lure Johnny.

Claiming that Allie and Johnny were twins, though, had been a stroke of genius by their captors. Johnny had almost believed it.

Allie started to say something more, but Johnny held his finger to his lips and leaned close to the door.  
_  
"…There's a warrant out for E.J.'s arrest, Jack knew someone who could speed that along, but they haven't found him. He's hiding somewhere. Same damn cat and mouse game his father played for all those years," the one called Shawn was saying._

"But you got the injunction? For custody?" asked Will.

"I think EJ disappearing made that easier." It was the woman, Belle, who answered. She turned to look at Will when she did, and Johnny saw that she did indeed strongly resemble Allie. Disgusting. This woman had actually been willing to get plastic surgery to emotionally manipulate a thirteen-year-old girl. "The judge kept talking about how being the mother's sister doesn't hold much weight when the mother has been out of the picture for so long—like Sami wanted it to be that way, or something!"

"Thank you so much for doing this—" Lucas started to say, but Belle cut him off.

"Sami is my sister and I love her. I know that if our positions were reversed she'd be fighting for Claire and Ty." 

"Claire and Ty?" Johnny mouthed at Allie.

"Cousins," Allie whispered. "Claire's great. Tyler's quiet."

Someone inside must have noticed Allie's whisper, or else they had taken too long to arrive, because the door opened and Johnny and Allie were pulled inside.

Belle and Shawn and Will and Lucas all introduced themselves to Johnny, and, as Allie had predicted, Will demanded a lock of hair so that Johnny's DNA could be tested against Belle's. Johnny submitted; there was no use fighting, and he gave them credit for at least pretending to run a DNA test, though obviously it would be fixed to show that "Belle" was his "aunt" and could therefore have custody of him while the police hounded Father with false accusations.

Will took off for the hospital; the rest of them made their way to Belle's house. Allie told Johnny all kinds of stories in a hurried rush, and he did his best to keep the enormous cast of characters and slew of unlikely events straight.

Johnny should have expected Belle's house's size—obviously, these were people of means if they were going to take on Father—but he was impressed all the same. It was even bigger than the main building at school.

The long table was set with service for eight, and three teenagers appeared from nowhere. Belle summoned the only boy. "Tyler, take your cousin Johnny upstairs and show him his room. Back in ten minutes for dinner."

Johnny locked eyes with Tyler and immediately despised him. He had met boys like Tyler at school. They were born to money and power and had no idea what to do with it. They were obsequious and sycophantic, fearful and submissive, weak and easily controlled.

Johnny easily won the impromptu staring contest, and Tyler was looking anywhere but at Johnny when he mumbled "follow me."

The room was nice; all of the rooms in this place were nice, Johnny was sure. Tyler stood awkwardly as Johnny felt out the space, looking for cameras, recording devices, and escape routes. The only unusual thing was a line of textbooks on the desk.

"We'll be in the same grade at school, you, me, and Allie," Tyler explained. "I guess you aren't starting until after Christmas vacation, though."

"Brilliant," said Johnny with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"It's not a bad school. I guess it's hard starting not knowing anyone, but you know Allie and me."

Johnny scowled. "Like I want to know someone whose own parents gave him away before he was born."

Tyler blanched, instead of punching Johnny in the face like anyone with a scrap of self-respect would have done.

Johnny smirked. It was good that Allie had told him that bizarre detail of Tyler's background; now Tyler would always know who was boss, and they hadn't even been acquainted for five minutes.

Johnny walked ahead of Tyler back to the dining room, ringing a bell on a tacky Christmas wreath as he went.

He sat beside Allie at the table and waited for the butler to bring in the good food, while all of the adults told him how glad they were that he was there.

_**TBC**_


	17. Christmas Miracles

**Part 17: Christmas Miracles**

Chelsea stared out the window at the falling snow, unmoved by the way it sparkled in the Christmas lights.

Everyone in her neighborhood, a fairly well-to-do residential area just outside Salem city limits, seemed to love Christmas decorations, the gaudier the better. It appealed to Nick, but the only real pleasure Chelsea took in them was in Nick's amusement.

But Nick wasn't home, and hadn't been home since what seemed like forever ago. When Nick had first requested an imaginary separation to lull the problem employees at the hospital lab into a false sense of security, they had stolen moments here and there. But after Chelsea had decided to protect Nick's project by neglecting to inform him of her pregnancy, their time together had dwindled to zero.

They had not spent Christmas apart since before their marriage. Chelsea had always thought of herself as being open to new experiences, but this was one she would rather have left unexplored.

She was glad that her pregnancy had advanced to the point that there was simply no way of hiding it in public. Billie and Abby couldn't badger her into going to the Horton Christmas Eve ornament-hanging, and she wouldn't be forced to watch the happy couples who could see and touch each other whenever they wanted, without ever feeling proper gratitude. It was bad enough being subjected to her mother and her friend and their attempts at cheerfulness, tempered by the occasional veiled reproach. They never said it in so many words, but Chelsea could read between the lines: _You're about to hurt Nick. Again. Worse than you ever did before._

For the third time, she tried to get rid of one of her keepers. "Abby."

Abby looked up from the magazine she'd been reading. "Yeah?"

"You haven't been in Salem for Christmas in years. You have to go to the Horton Center."

For the third time, Abby shrugged. "I'm not really that close to anyone who'll be there, you know? Awkward."

The excuse was so ludicrous that Chelsea ignored it. "My mom is here to baby-sit me. Believe me, she doesn't need any backup."

"I like your mom," said Abby mildly, as if that had anything to do with anything. "Maybe when she gets off the phone with your stepdad, we can all—"

But Chelsea never heard whatever hopelessly corny and childlike suggestion Abby was going to make. She slipped from the window seat to the floor, then scrambled to press her forehead against the cold window.

"Chels? Is it the baby?" Abby rushed to Chelsea's side, but Chelsea roughly brushed her away and jumped toward the door, calling Nick's name.

At least, she meant to call Nick's name. She was pretty sure that it came out as a garbled mess, but that was all right, because her face ended up buried in his coat anyway. He smelled like fresh snow, only better, and she almost hated to raise her head. "Did you—" she began, but he held up a finger for silence and covered her lips with his.

A long moment later, he shifted so that his breath tickled her cheek. "I needed that. I've needed that for four months."

"Me too," Chelsea whispered.

"We can't ever do this again."

"I agree."

"June's been arrested," he told her, finally answering the question he hadn't let her ask.

"Good," Chelsea breathed. "But we still can't ever do this again. Not ever."

The shock of being near each other again was starting to wear off, and Chelsea knew that the moment of reckoning had arrived. Nick was holding her body close against his own, and his eyes widened as he realized that her body has changed drastically since the last time they'd stood like this. His cold hands slipped under her blouse; the baby, knowing its father, kicked in greeting.

Nick fell to his knees in the snow and pressed his cheek against Chelsea's stomach. "How are you?" he asked hoarsely. "Are you doing okay?"

"He or she is fine," Chelsea answered. "Perfectly healthy, and the doctor thinks that there's no chance… no chance it will be like it was before, not when there haven't been any problems…"

"You don't know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"The doctor does. I didn't want to know something else you didn't know. I meant—I didn't think I'd be letting it go this long. I told myself I wouldn't tell you for a week, so you could finish what you were doing and protect all those people, but then it was a month, and then it was two…"

"I wish you'd told me." Slowly, Nick climbed back to his feet. "I would never have made anything more important than you and the baby."

"I know that. That's why I had to—I don't know if I did the right thing, I didn't want to keep you from being there. The baby and I thought about you for every minute of every day, but—"

Nick held his finger to Chelsea's lips again. "I know. I'm lucky to have you. Both of you. It could have been so much worse."

Chelsea started to ask what that was supposed to mean, but then she noticed that Billie and Abby were standing in the open doorway with their arms around each other, beaming as if they were the ones reunited with a long-lost husband. Where they'd been prison guards five minutes before, now they were two of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen.

She gestured that that they should go back inside. "Stop letting the snow into my house, you voyeurs!"

Abby laughed. "I don't think it's voyeurism when you're watching someone standing on her front lawn. I hope none of the kids on this street were looking out their windows for Santa."

"Speaking of Santa, maybe you and I need to bring some presents over to the Horton Center after all and leave these two alone?" Billie suggested.

"We appreciate the thought, but we need to go to the Horton Center too," said Nick with an apologetic glance at Chelsea. "There's something I need to do there that shouldn't wait."

* * *

Chelsea, Nick, Billie, and Abby entered the Horton Center without knocking. The room was a cacophony of sound. Stories were being told; drinks were being poured; and presents were being piled in ever-higher stacks.

"Sorry we're late!" Chelsea announced at the top of her voice. When two dozen heads turned to look at her, she shed her winter coat, revealing her undeniably swollen midsection. "While we have your attention, Nick and I would like to announce that the baby is due in February." Nick wrapped his arms around Chelsea from behind.

Three seconds passed in silence before the room exploded with more noise than ever before.

"I knew it! I told you! Didn't I tell you?" Hope and Ciara shouted to each other as they rushed to hug Chelsea.

Shawn was the first to shake Nick's hand and slap him on the back, but he managed to demand an explanation for Chelsea and Nick's recent separation in the same breath as he offered congratulations.

Everyone else was eager to hug and kiss and interrogate Nick, too, but he couldn't quite enjoy it. There were still reparations to be made. "Lucas," he whispered when his cousin clasped his hand in turn. "We need to talk. In private. Now."

Lucas didn't make Nick say it twice. They separated themselves from the throng, which was really more interested in Chelsea anyway, and escaped upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

Nick anxiously paced the length of the bedroom, meeting Lucas' eyes only with great effort.

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Lucas asked.

"No. It's not bad at all. It's good, really, but it's the kind of good thing that you don't want delayed, and not that it's too late, but— maybe I should start at the beginning."

"That might be a good idea."

Nick wished that Lucas didn't look so thoroughly amused underneath his concern.

"When Sami was pregnant with Allie and Johnny, your mother blackmailed me into pretending that the paternity tests showed that EJ DiMera was their father."

Lucas made a face. "My mom is like that," he said noncommittally.

"But the real test, that showed that you were their father, like it was supposed to be."

"But then, the last test, after they were born—"

"Was fixed by a lab tech named S.B. Piper, who bribed another lab tech named June Emerson into covering it up later. Piper's in jail. June will be joining him shortly. I've spent the last four months pretending to be on the outs with Chelsea so I could get closer to June. I finally caught her red-handed a few hours ago. She asked if I went to all that trouble over her because of my cousins, and I hadn't even realized… I went off on her a little bit, blamed her for what happened to Sami when she while she was being handcuffed. I knew Will had Johnny tested against Belle last week, and Allie against you a few months ago, and I have access to the records."

Lucas didn't look so amused anymore. "Are you saying that Johnny is my son? Mine and Sami's?"

Nick nodded jerkily, his face ashen. "I'm sorry. If I'd been more careful thirteen years ago—"

"It wouldn't have mattered!" Lucas snapped. His voice got louder with every word. "The damn DiMeras always win. If you'd poked around, they'd probably have had you killed. They wanted to take that beautiful little boy and raise him to kill and steal and treat other people like they don't matter. They wanted to take a baby and use him to control his mother. So that's what they did. If you weren't so damn smart, it would have worked forever instead of for thirteen years." Lucas scowled. "Thank you," he added as an afterthought.

"I wish I'd thought about it sooner," Nick repeated, and nodded at someone behind Lucas. He whirled around to find Billie standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"You should know that you were yelling loudly enough that everyone downstairs heard you ranting about the DiMeras stealing Johnny. Including Johnny," Billie told them bluntly.

"Shit," Lucas muttered. He looked from Nick to Billie, wondering if either of them had a better idea of how to handle this than he did. But while both looked sympathetic, neither looked ready to take charge of the situation. It wasn't their place. Johnny was Lucas' son, after all.  
_  
Another son. Sami, we have another son. _

For years, Lucas had been able to view Sami as almost an abstract concept. She was someone he'd loved more than he would ever love anyone else. She was the mother of his children, and he liked it when he saw her in them. She was the friend of his childhood and the partner of his young adulthood.

Conveniently, he'd forgotten what it was like to need her—sexually and otherwise—so badly he couldn't see straight.

Now, all of a sudden, the need threatened to knock him off his feet. He needed to see her. He needed to kiss her. He needed to see her laugh and insist that she'd *always* known that Johnny must be his. He needed her to remember with him what it had been like when Marlena had helped them bring the infant John Roman Horton into the world. He needed her eyes to sparkle as they recalled the day in the cabin that they had created their twins, the children they had wanted for what seemed like forever…

He needed her to storm downstairs and shamelessly steal the spotlight from Chelsea as she proudly proclaimed that there was another addition to the Horton family who needed to get his due.

That wasn't going to happen, of course. Instead, he would have to be Sami enough for both of them.

He left the bedroom, gesturing that Billie and Nick should follow. He paused halfway down the stairs and looked at his assembled family. Three faces stood out: Will, startled but smiling calmly; Allie, radiant with delight; and Johnny, cool, calculating, and unsurprised.

"Can I have your attention?" he asked unnecessarily. He had more attention than he wanted. "We've already celebrated one addition to the family tonight, but I think you've realized that we need to celebrate again. Maybe Nick can explain it to you, and you can take it better than I did?"

He ceded center stage to Nick, who obediently began to retell the tale of his recent activities. Meanwhile, Lucas wove his way through the crowd to his children. Will, always more partner than son, gave him a reassuring nod; Allie's grin grew even wider when he approached. But it was Johnny, silent and unreadable, who Lucas addressed.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he told Johnny.

Johnny smirked. "No problem."

"I wasn't much older than you when I realized that my father wasn't who I thought he was. I know it's a problem. But it's something you can get through, it's something you might even be grateful for one day."

Johnny cocked his head. "I don't know about grateful, but I suppose I'm impressed that you went to this much trouble to stage the grand revelation."

"None of this is staged, Johnny."

Johnny chuckled. He sounded uncomfortably like EJ. "EJ DiMera is my father. He's the only father I want or need. Even if by some quirk there was no blood between us—and I don't believe your cousin's tests for a moment—he would still be my father. I consider myself a prisoner of war, not your son."

Claire and Ciara, who had developed a bizarre habit of appearing at Allie's side as if by magic in the most unlikely of circumstances, were gaping openly at Johnny as if they had never seen anything quite like him.

"Prisoner of war?" Ciara asked. "Isn't that a little bit much?"

Johnny cut his eyes to her. "Don't you need to go hang one of those stupid ornaments for your parents' dead child for whom you are a poor replacement?" he asked.

Neither Lucas nor Claire nor Allie had enough time to stop Ciara's fist from connecting with Johnny's jaw.

Before Johnny had even straightened up, Bo had his younger daughter's arms pinned to her sides. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" he demanded.

Ciara didn't answer. "Come on," Bo continued. "Apologize, and then you're going home before everyone else goes to midnight mass."

"Don't punish her, Bo," Lucas suggested. "She doesn't deserve it."

Bo looked from Ciara, her fist still clenched, to Johnny, still rubbing his jaw. "I doubt that."

"Let it slide, please," Lucas tried again.

"Apologize, Ciara," Bo repeated.

With great fanfare, Ciara turned to Allie. "Allie, you have always been my cousin and lately you've become one of my best friends. I know how much you love your twin brother, so I apologize to you for hitting him."

Bo growled low in his throat.

"What?" Ciara demanded. "You never told me I had to apologize to anyone in particular." Then she twisted out of her father's grasp and flounced toward the table where Mickey and Maggie were sorting out the family ornaments. She pulled her own and Zack's from the array and smiled winningly at Maggie, who agreed that she could go first.

Claire and Allie trailed after Ciara and giggled as they hung their ornaments close to hers. Allie tactfully hung Johnny's in his place.

Belle pushed Tyler forward. He started to hang his ornament on the lowest branch which faced the wall, but Belle pointed meaningfully to the cluster Ciara had started and Tyler changed course to place his ornament next to his sister's. Belle and Shawn added their own ornaments next, and Bo and Hope and Doug and Julie followed quickly.

A dozen more ornaments found their way to the tree in turn. Abby had her own, as well as those of Jack and Jennifer and JJ, so she suggested that Lucas hang "Grandpa Bill's."

Lucas felt a tightness in his chest as he placed Bill Horton's ornament safely between his own and Jennifer's. He had known that Bill was his biological father for many years before he'd been able to accept the Hortons as his family. How long would it take Johnny?

Will was among the last to have his turn. For the past several years, he hadn't hung ornaments for Sami or the twins. His older relatives had stopped so much as removing them from the box for fear of hurting him. But this time he made sure that his mother's ornament was within reach of all of her children's.

* * *

The doorbell rang as Will was passing through the entryway. He opened the door automatically. "You're late," he started to tease the new arrival. Then he realized that he was face-to-face with Joy Wesley.

"I wasn't invited. I can't be late," Joy told him while he tried to recover.

"Come in anyway," he forced himself to say. "Everyone's welcome, we don't send out engraved invitations."

She shook her head; Will made a point of not noticing how her red hair looked even brighter against the falling snow. "I have to get back to the hospital. I'm on duty all night."

"On Christmas Eve? The Chief didn't pull any strings?"

Joy hesitated. "It's by request," she admitted. "I didn't want there to be any impression of favoritism."

"Oh," said Will.

"Why am I here, right? There was a little commotion with your cousin Nick that lab tech he was hanging around with."

"She was arrested, wasn't she?"

Joy nodded. "So you already know. He was mentioning—he mentioned your brother and sister. He mentioned how for your mother, this can't ever be fixed, and she's never going to know her twins. He said that the damage to her brain from blunt trauma is inoperable."

"All that's true," Will conceded, thinking that he was going to have to get Professor Nick to tell him the story properly, without leaving out the part where he taught a class in Advanced Horton Dirty Laundry.

"I was wondering if you wanted to consider this procedure." She removed a folded booklet of papers from her coat. "It's not going to be published until next spring. It was just developed by a team at Johns Hopkins."

"How do you even know about it, then?"

"They recruited me. The recruiter was really rude about it, actually, said I was wasting a one-in-a-million talent for neurosurgery on a fledgling program in a hick town because I couldn't stand being away from my daddy. They're brilliant at what they do, though. It's practically the only place that could get away with calling the program here 'fledgling.'"

The first strains of _O Holy Night_ drifted toward them from further inside the house.

"I should go. I don't know the details of your mother's situation, but if you think she might be a candidate for this, let me know." She shoved the papers into his hands and let herself out just as Maggie came in search of Will.

"Why didn't you bring your friend inside, Will?" she asked.

None of the answers that came to mind—she didn't want to come inside, she isn't my friend, I think we've had enough upheaval for one day without her explaining what she was doing here—seemed right. So he led Maggie back inside without any response but a smile.

_A thrill of hope  
The weary world rejoices  
For yonder breaks  
A new and glorious morn…_

_**TBC**_


	18. New Year

**Part 18-New Year**

In the year 2020, the last thing Will would have expected was that he would voluntarily board a plane bound for London with Joy Wesley as his only travel companion. That would have been the embodiment of his conception of hell.

But two weeks into the year 2021, that was exactly what he did.

"I haven't been here since Chloe sang here five years ago," Joy told him as they circled high above Heathrow, waiting for their turn to land. "It's one of my favorite cities, though. But I guess everyone loves London."

"I don't," Will told her with more viciousness than he intended. Joy looked more than a little taken aback.

"Sorry," she said hastily. "I guess with your mom and brother and sister—"

Will waved the apology off. "It's not London's fault."

"How long since you've been here?"

"Two and a half years." He looked at Joy thoughtfully. She had brought the medical procedure that might actually help Sami to his attention; she had agreed to fly to London with him and help bring Sami back to Salem. She would be a necessary connection to the best neurosurgeons in the world.

He was going to have to tell her something he hadn't mentioned aloud since he'd drunkenly blurted the whole thing out to Abby and Chelsea two hours after it happened.

(Abby and Chelsea had made veiled references to the incident when they inscribed a copy of their novel, Correspondence on Bad Ideas, to him at their signing the next day. He had almost shredded or burned the book many times, but his failure to follow through had resulted in probing questions and unsubtle hints from both Lucas and Allie. He'd pretended not to know what they were talking about.)

"The doctors had a disagreement about how to treat my mom, so I came here to check on her," Will began. "She was having these… periods where she'd be semi-conscious for a few minutes more often then. Some of the doctors thought that she was lucid and others disagreed. I thought I was in a better position to judge, you know?"

Joy nodded.

"The first few times I went into her room, there was nothing. She was just a shell lying there, letting the machines do everything. Then I came in when she was awake. She looked at me, and she squeezed my hand, and I knew she knew who I was." Will's voice broke, and when Joy laced her fingers through his, he returned the contact gratefully. "Then her lips moved, and I was sure she was going to say that she loved me, or that she was sorry, or where I could find the twins, or even just say my name. But all she said—all she said was _**EJ**_. She left my dad for him. She left me for him. She gave Allie and Johnny to him. She destroyed our family for this man who raped her and tried to kill her kids. And when she got to talk to me for the only time in ten years, what did she do? She called for him. I already knew where her priorities were, but… anyway, it wasn't like we were going to bring him to her even if we could. The doctors agreed to carry on with what they were doing, and I went out and had six beers in about an hour. Then my cousin—Abby, I think you've met her—called me and ended up dragging me out of the pub before I did anything stupider."

Joy's fingers were still tangled among Will's, and she pulled them closer together. "I'm glad she was there, then."

Suddenly, Will's face was an inch from Joy's. He pulled his lips away from hers just in time.

* * *

Allie's cell phone buzzed with the text message that Will's flight had landed safely in London. It was odd to think of Will, who was part of her new life in Salem, being so close to her old life. It was even odder to think that when he returned, he might bring their mother with him.

Ciara elbowed Allie in the ribs. "Put that away. Claire's next."

Allie dropped the phone back into her bookbag and stared straight ahead at the high diving board and the turquoise-colored pool. It was the fifth swim meet of the season, and half a dozen Hortons and Bradys had turned out to watch Claire's performance.

As usual, Uncle Shawn, Uncle Philip, and Aunt Belle looked sick to their stomachs. They all wished that Claire would find a different hobby even as they acknowledged that she was genuinely talented.

Tyler and Johnny, in agreement for once, looked bored. Neither of them really wanted to be here, but Aunt Belle hadn't given them a choice.

"Now diving for Salem, Claire Brady!" the public address system announced importantly.

Claire, graceful and poised as always, walked backward along the diving board until she reached the edge.

"Wish she'd at least walk forwards and then turn around," Uncle Shawn muttered under his breath.

"She's got too much style to do that," Uncle Philip returned. "Not that I don't agree," he added hastily when Uncle Shawn glowered at him.

Claire bounced once on the board before springing high in the air and twisting upside down.

Allie had seen Claire dive often enough that she knew the timing was wrong a split second before Claire's head slammed into the board with a sickening crack. She was obviously unconscious before she hit the water.

Both Uncle Shawn and Uncle Philip vaulted out of the bleachers and into the pool, but Claire's coach had gotten there first. Her blood ran down his chest as he climbed from the water with her in his arms.

"Baby? Claire-bear?" Belle asked anxiously, but Claire was in no condition to respond. In the distance, Allie could make out a siren, and almost before the first drops of Claire's blood had sunk to the bottom of the pool, a stretcher and an ambulance were there to take Claire and her parents and uncle to the hospital.

Ciara, who Allie had never before seen at a loss for words, pressed herself tightly against Allie and shook uncontrollably. Tyler, who wasn't a take-charge sort at the best of times, stared numbly at the place where his sister and parents had been moments before.

Allie knew that she was supposed to do something, anything, to help Ciara and Tyler, but her throat was closing up and she couldn't catch her breath. Blackness closed in on the corners of her vision and she found herself unable to think of anything but being in her mother's arms.

"Not about you," she tried to tell herself, but her chest got even tighter and her breathing even more shallow.

Then something hauled her to her feet, taking a clinging Ciara up as well. To her shock, she realized that Johnny had her by the collar of her blouse and Tyler by his arm. "Move," Johnny commanded, herding the three of them like they were sheep and he was the local border collie. "Down. Don't slip. It's wet."

Allie found herself forced through a gasping, gossiping crowd to the lobby and then to the street.

"Give me your mobile," Johnny told Allie.

Allie blankly offered him her backpack; Johnny extracted her cell phone and rapidly dialed one set of numbers, then another. Allie wanted to ask Johnny what he was doing, but it seemed more important to hug Ciara and try to help her stop crying.

Presently, Johnny rummaged through Allie's things until he found her wallet and transferred her few crumpled dollar bills to his pocket. "Get Ciara's money," he commanded Allie.

Allie glared at Johnny. She knew that he resented the adults' decision not to give him any money at all—although his sister and cousins had been ordered to pay for anything he wanted or needed at school—but taking advantage of Claire's accident to rob his cousins was not the way to deal with his anger.

"We need to pay the cab driver," Johnny explained when Allie didn't follow his directions. "He's going to see a bunch of teenagers and want the fare up front."

"How do you know a cab is even coming?" Allie wanted to know, but she unzipped the inner pocket of Ciara's purse where she knew her cousin kept her money.

"I just called one." He returned Allie's phone in exchange for Ciara's forty dollars. "Good, that's enough."

The cab screeched to a halt beside them, and Johnny waved the money at the driver before pushing Tyler, then Ciara, then Allie into the backseat. He sat up front with the driver. "University Hospital, emergency department. You keep the change if you get us there in ten minutes."

"You got it," the driver promised, and the cab jumped ahead almost before Johnny had closed his door.

* * *

Johnny expected his charges to be collected by their parents as soon as he marched them into the emergency room waiting area. Instead, though, the four of them came upon the end of what must have been a fight for the ages. He regretted that he had missed what must have been a good show.

Shawn and Belle stood together, both glowering at Philip, who looked at them with the deepest disgust and disdain.

"I wasn't the one who threw her off a cruise ship into the ocean when she was a baby," Philip said. "That's probably when she decided she liked diving."

Belle slapped Philip hard across the face, and then she and Shawn stomped off to talk to a passing nurse while Philip stormed to the other side of the room to talk to Chelsea and Abby.

"Sit down," Johnny told Ciara, Tyler, and Allie. He pointed at a row of empty chairs. "They don't know anything yet. They wouldn't be fighting if they did."

The other three seemed to take Johnny's conclusion at face value. It was strange; neither Tyler nor Ciara could stand the sight of Johnny, but now they were all too willing to obey his every command, as if they were just that grateful to have someone, anyone, in charge.

He would have told them to jump off a bridge, just to see if they would do it, but that would have made Allie angry. He did hate to upset Allie.

Instead, he followed the signs to the hospital gift shop and purchased a box of tissues and three bottles of water. When he returned, he forced the tissues into Allie's hand so she'd stop drying Ciara's eyes with the same sodden mess she'd been using since before they'd left the school. The water he dumped on the empty chair beside Tyler.

Reluctantly, Johnny slumped into the seat next to Allie. Even in this miserable town called Salem, there were a million places he would rather be, but he knew Allie would never leave her precious Claire and Ciara when Claire was so badly hurt and Ciara so deeply unhappy. And he couldn't very well leave Allie when she was miserable; that would only bond her more deeply to their kidnappers.

But it was only after Chelsea dragged Ciara away and Belle did the same with Tyler that Johnny said anything to Allie.

"Want to take a walk?"

She shook her head. "I want to be here as soon as anyone knows anything."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"You don't have to care about Claire, but I do," Allie scowled.

"That's not what I meant. I meant physically. You looked like you were about to go catatonic when Claire hit her head. You were starting to hyperventilate. You didn't get moving until Ciara started up with the blubbering."

"It was weird," Allie admitted. "It was… it was the most overwhelming sense of déjà vu."

"You've never seen anyone hit her head on a diving board before. You'd never been to a swim meet before they brought you here."

"I know that." Allie twisted her long hair around one hand with annoyance. "I was thinking about my mom."

"Oh." But Johnny couldn't leave it at that. "You know Father didn't really hit her over the head, right? Whatever happened to her, it isn't his fault. He would never do that to you. Or to me."

Allie's eyes darkened, and Johnny felt a flash of hate. These people had thoroughly poisoned Allie against the man who had raised her for the first thirteen years of her life. He had felt the tiniest bit sorry for them—Claire's accident was one thing that they hadn't planned as part of their elaborate hoax to make Allie and Johnny turn their backs on the DiMera name—but that sympathy evaporated now.

"Please," Allie whispered.

"Please what?"

But rather than answer, Allie threw herself into Johnny's arms like she hadn't done since the day he'd gotten off the plane in Salem.

"He—I didn't—like her—the sink—the counter—" she managed, but Johnny could make no sense of that, and from the unfocused expression in Allie's eyes, he wasn't sure that she made sense of it either.

He snapped his fingers in Allie's face in the hope that that would bring her back from wherever she'd gone, but Allie only flinched and shook harder.

"Her head—the blood."

"Claire will be all right," said Johnny, even though he had no idea if that was true. Allie couldn't handle any other answer right now.

Allie looked at him blankly. "Who's Claire?"

_**TBC**_


	19. A Memory

**Part 19-A Memory**

Allie's small body burned with fever.

The insides of her bones ached so that she wanted to cry, but she was too tired and sore and hot to cry.

She was a big girl, three years old, but she wanted Mommy to make her better.

But Mommy wasn't even looking at her. She was looking at EJ, and she was angry. She was always angry at EJ.

"She needs a hospital, EJ!" Sami snapped. "Her fever is 104."

EJ lounged casually against the doorway. "I'll call my personal physician in if you'd like—perhaps I will anyway, 104 is rather high—but you aren't leaving this house and neither is Allie."

"I don't want some crazy doctor on the DiMera payroll touching her! If he's anything like Dr. Rolf, he'll probably put a brain chip in her head while he's pretending to break her fever."

"For pity's sake, Samantha, I'm getting rather tired of your groundless accusations."

"Says the man who refuses to let me or my children leave the house."

His face hardened. "You tried to take my son, and the girl I love as a daughter, away from me. I can't allow that to happen again, and you need to understand that your actions have consequences."

Sami growled low in her throat. "I wish to God that Johnny weren't your son, and Allie will never be your daughter."

"That's rather selfish of you, to deny your daughter a father. I'm all she has. Her deadbeat biological father isn't providing for her from jail, is he?"

Allie managed to summon the strength to cry. Her head hurt, and the yelling was making it worse. She couldn't remember the words that would remind Mommy to take care of her. But she could remember how to cry.

Sami's tone changed instantly. "Allie, sweetheart, you'll feel better soon." She swept Allie into her arms, and Allie took some comfort from this. Mommy was all-powerful.

Sami shoved past EJ, managing to elbow him in the ribs even as she held Allie close. She stripped off Allie's sweat-soaked nightgown and deposited her in the bathtub. With one hand, she began to rub a cool washcloth over Allie's body; with the other, she rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Eventually, she began flinging the medicine cabinet's contents to the floor. "Where's the baby aspirin?" she demanded.

EJ was leaning against the door jamb, watching Sami and Allie. "I think you left it in Gianni's room last week when he had whatever it is that Allie has now."

"Don't call Johnny that," Sami grumbled, but she left the room in search of the aspirin.

EJ stayed very still for a few seconds, and then sidled into the space Sami had left. He stared down at Allie as she stood in the tub. "You look so much like your mother," he said in an odd voice. Then he picked up the washcloth Sami had left behind and resumed sponging Allie's body—her shoulders and arms, her neck and chest, down her stomach to her hips and between her thighs.

"So like your mother. Too much like your mother," he crooned again, just as Sami returned to the room with a plastic bottle of pills in her hand.

"Get away from her!" Sami snarled. She rushed to throw herself between EJ and Allie. "You don't ever touch my daughter, ever, especially not like that!"

"Not like what? I was cleaning her up, the same thing you were doing."

"I don't want a sex offender putting his hands all over my daughter—and don't think I didn't see where your hand was!"

"She's a three-year-old child. You can't possibly think—"

"I think that you raped me, and here you are with my stark naked daughter telling her how much she looks like me!"

"Stop making groundless accusations, Samantha," said EJ, his voice suddenly quiet and dangerous. He reached toward Allie, obviously intent on continuing his ministrations.

"I said no!"

"And I said yes!"

EJ grabbed Sami by her shoulders and lifted her off her feet.

"Damn it, EJ!" Sami's fists pounded on EJ's arms, but to no avail. "Let go of me."

"Fine. As you wish." EJ dropped Sami just outside the bathroom door and made to turn back to Allie.

Sami struggled and clawed at EJ. He attempted to shrug her off; when that wasn't effective, he turned around hard and thrust her away with both hands.

Sami stumbled backwards but managed to reach for EJ one more time. He shoved her back harder, and this time her head connected with the marble counter that held the sinks.

After the stomach-turning thud, Sami didn't move any more.

Allie finally found her voice. "Mommy?" she asked softly.

Her question was drowned out by EJ's cries.

"Samantha? Samantha? Please, I didn't mean it, I love you."

He shook her lifeless body, but she didn't respond. His whole body trembled as he picked Allie up and deposited her back in her damp, sweaty bed.

Allie never saw her mother any more. After a while, she had a hard time remembering that she had ever had a mother.

* * *

The first thing Lucas heard when he entered the emergency room's waiting area was Johnny's voice. For once, Johnny seemed unnerved and fearful rather than cool and calculating.

"Allie?" Johnny demanded. "Allie, say something."

After what seemed like an eternity, Allie's eyes focused properly. The words tumbled over each other. "I remember what happened to Mom. She pushed him to get him away from me, and he pushed her back, and her head bounced off the counter, the marble counter with two sinks in it."

"That's not true, Allie. These people have brainwashed—"

"Johnny!" Lucas managed to reach the twins by a circuitous route around clusters of chairs and people. He held a bottle of water to Allie's lips, and Allie sipped it gratefully.

"Daddy," Allie whispered. "Daddy, what happened was my fault."

"Shh, shh." Lucas stroked Allie's hair. "Nothing was your fault."

"We agree on that, at least," Johnny muttered.

Allie locked eyes with Johnny, not seeming to be aware that Lucas was even there. "It was my fault. They were fighting over me."

"They fought over everything. It was how they expressed their love."

Allie shook her head. "She didn't love him."

Johnny nodded in Lucas' direction. "Of course that's what _he _told you."

"It's what I remember. It was before I ever met him."

Johnny sighed. "These are planted memories. They tell you something so many times that you start to think it must be true, and you _want _it to be true because you want to please them—"

"Why would I want it to be my fault that my mother is as good as dead? How would that make them like me better, when they like me because I look like her?"

"Allie—" Lucas tried to interrupt, but Allie and Johnny were still locked in some sort of private combat he couldn't penetrate.

"What you want is to tell them, 'you're right, EJ DiMera is evil and I never cared about him and everything's his fault. Boy, are you all smart!' Then they'll be happy and they'll like you even more, but the thing is, Allie, they don't. They don't know you. You're a thing they use to punish my father. They want to punish Father because he won. He won your mother."

"She's both of our mother." Unnoticed by either twin, Lucas winced when Allie didn't bother to correct Johnny's statement about his paternity.

Johnny shrugged. "Either way, Father won and they can't take that. So they make up stories—he must have raped her, he must have stolen her children, he must have hit her over the head and dumped her in an institution. None of that's true."

Allie glared. "I heard her. I saw it."

"You believe he'd rape her? I suppose you saw that, too?"

"I believe that because it's what he tried to do to me," said Allie quietly.

Johnny jumped to his feet. "Stop lying!"

"Stop deluding yourself! EJ DiMera is a terrible person who does terrible things, including pretending to be your father so he'd have a hold over our mother!"

"I get that you're bitter that he isn't your real father, didn't ever pretend to be—"

"Oh my God—"

"But you can't go around pretending he tried to rape you. That's the worst thing you can make up—"

Johnny didn't get to finish his sentence, because Shawn had thrown him over his shoulder and carried him out to the parking lot.

Lucas lifted Allie to her feet. "Let's go home," he said. The words were innocuous, but speaking them hurt. "They'll call when there's news about Claire. This isn't helping anyone."

"No. I need…"

He flinched. If Allie needed something, he should have figured it out before she did. He was in over his head. Someone professional—someone _better_—should have been handling this. "You need what? Do you want to see if Dr. Medy's available?"

Allie shook her head. "No." Then she put her hand in Lucas' and led him out the door.

They passed Shawn on their way across the parking lot. Lucas gave his cousin a consoling pat on the shoulder which Shawn acknowledged with a pained, sympathetic glance. Shawn's sympathy made Lucas feel even more guilty. Shawn's daughter was fighting for her life, and Shawn had had to interrupt his vigil to help Lucas with Allie and Johnny.

"Into the car," Lucas ordered both Allie and Johnny. The part of him that was Allie's father didn't like to ask her to sit beside someone who had just accused her of lying about the most traumatic events of her life. But the part of him that was Johnny's father screamed that he would lose Johnny forever if he turned his back on him now.

To his surprise, Johnny and Allie both obeyed. They opened the back doors of the car with eerie precision; they slumped into their seats with parallel exhaustion. As he watched them in the rearview mirror, Lucas realized that he would have found it funny had the situation not been so serious. Allie and Johnny's twin-ness had never been more evident. It was a wonder that EJ had ever been able to convince them—or anyone else—that they weren't twins.

"We're going to Philip's house first," Lucas told them, even though he doubted that they were listening. "Johnny, you have five minutes to get everything you'll need for the next week. Not six minutes, not five minutes and ten seconds. I'm going to be staring at the clock. Anything that doesn't come now doesn't come until the situation with Claire is cleared up."

Johnny gave no sign that he had heard or understood. Lucas didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for Johnny's snide remarks or his stubborn refusal to accept the admittedly drastic changes in his life.

But then, doing battle with Johnny might have kept his mind off of the doubts that had led him to allow Johnny to stay at the Kiriakis Mansion almost three weeks after Nick's DNA test had established that Johnny was his son.

He had told himself that he was waiting for formal paperwork, waiting until he and Will had a chance to move their exercise room to the basement to make a bedroom for Johnny, waiting until a decision had been made about Sami's future, waiting until Johnny had gotten over the shock of learning that EJ was not his father.

Really, he had been putting off the day that he had to be a fulltime parent to both Allie and Johnny. Shawn, Philip, and Belle were able to triple-team Johnny when they had to. Lucas didn't have that luxury. He was about to be on his own with two virtual strangers: a thirteen year old girl who had been the victim of a sexual assault and a thirteen year old boy who had been raised in the image of the sociopath who did the assaulting.

Lucas had barely been able to handle Will, and Will had been practically perfect in every way while raising himself and his parents simultaneously.

He looked again at the twins in the rearview mirror. Allie caught his eye, and for a fraction of a second he saw Sami, and Belle, and Billie, and Kate, and Julie, and Abby, and Alice. He saw everyone he'd ever loved, but mostly he saw a girl who liked Indian food and sparkly stickers.

She wasn't a stranger at all, and neither was Johnny.

He would do this, even without Sami.

**_TBC_**


	20. What Sami Didn't Hear

**Part 20- What Sami Didn't Hear**

When Will and Joy escorted the gurney bearing Sami's unconscious body through the doors of University Hospital, they were hit with a barrage of information. The Hospital hadn't fallen apart during their two-day absence, but they had certainly been missed.

Will was his cousin Claire's primary care physician. Claire, it seemed, had just regained consciousness after an accident. While the other doctors concurred that no treatment other than close observation was warranted at the moment, Will's opinion was desired.

He left his mother to the care of Joy and went to check on Claire.

Unsurprisingly, Shawn, Belle, and Philip were all in Claire's room, along with Dr. Karlin, the head of the Department of Neurosurgery.

Dr. Karlin rarely smiled, but he did when he saw Will. "Welcome back, Dr. Horton. Your mother's transport went well?"

Will nodded. "Yes."

Belle's face hardened, and she caught Will's eye. "We need to talk about that after we talk about Claire."

Will nodded again and reached automatically for Claire's chart. Shawn and Philip reluctantly stepped back to allow Will a clear view of his patient.

Claire's strawberry blonde curls were all that kept her too-pale face from blending in with the white pillow, but she managed a wan smile when Will sat beside her.

"Hi, Will."

"Hi, Claire. How are you feeling?"

The question seemed to be a difficult one. "Dizzy," she decided at last.

Will asked Claire a few more questions mainly to watch the way she responded; the answers were already on her chart.

"I agree with Dr. Karlin," he told Claire at last. "You're going to have to stay here for a few days as a precaution, but I don't think we're going to be doing much with you in the meantime."

"So they aren't going to shave my head?" asked Claire, showing more interest than she had thus far.

"If they did, your hair would grow back."

Claire didn't seem to think that that was particularly relevant, but Will didn't argue the point, not least because he suspected that he would have to save his breath for arguing with Belle.

"You don't want Mom to have the surgery?" he asked Belle without preamble when they had stepped into the empty room next door to Claire's.

Belle looked genuinely puzzled. "I think it's a great idea. It's the only hope we've had for Sami in ten years. My Mom and Dad have already made plans to fly to Salem next week—unless you think they should come sooner?"

"Then why did you say we needed to talk about it?"

"Because while you were gone, Allie remembered something that might be useful." Belle sighed, the stress of the past few days plain on her face. "You might want to sit down, Will. It's probably something like what we all guessed, but still… it seems like Sami and EJ were fighting over Allie. They were in a bathroom and Sami either saw or thought she saw EJ touch Allie… inappropriately."

"You mean the bastard was doing it all these years?"

"I don't know. For some reason I really don't think so. Sami hated EJ and she hated having him around Allie. She might have misinterpreted what she saw. But she tried to put herself between EJ and Allie. He threw her out of the way and her head hit the counter. It sounds like she was unconscious before she hit the floor."

"This is what Allie remembers? From ten years ago?" Will asked dubiously.

Belle shrugged. "I know, there's no way to know if that's what she really saw or not. It seemed like seeing Claire hit her head reminded her of when Sami hit her head, but…" Belle trailed off. Will didn't need her to complete the thought. It was possible that Allie's shock at witnessing Claire's injury had caused her mind to create a similar scenario for Sami.

"That does fit with what we've always thought about the cause of the brain damage, though," Will admitted. "And the better idea we have of what happened, the less chance there is for surprises when they do the procedure."

Either way, Belle and Will agreed, Sami should have the surgery sooner rather than later.

* * *

Since Dr. Karlin had banned Will from scrubbing in, observing, or being anywhere in the vicinity during Sami's surgery, Will came to the hospital with Lucas and the twins a few hours before the procedure was scheduled to begin.

"You can all have a chance to see her, if you want," he told them as he led them though the hospital's winding corridors. "She probably can't hear you, but there's no knowing for sure."

"You don't have to go see her, though," Lucas said, though it wasn't clear whether he was speaking to himself or the twins. "It's been such a long time, you barely remember her, and she has machines doing everything for her…"

"Yeah, no pressure to see her if you don't want to," Will agreed.

Allie chimed in that of course she wanted to see her mother.

Johnny was his usual sullen, silent self.

* * *

Lucas went in first. He wasn't going to send Johnny or Allie in not knowing what he was sending them too. Will had already seen his mother and seemed to think that it was appropriate for the twins to visit, too. But Will looked at very sick people on a daily basis. Allie and Johnny didn't.

Neither did Lucas.

It took him what seemed like a year to raise his eyes to look at Sami. He'd last seen her through a prison window. She'd been angry at him for shooting EJ, angry at him for getting caught, angry at him for asking her to take some of the blame, and angry at him for suggesting that she move on with her life without him or EJ.

He'd been furious with her because she had come to tell him that she was taking the twins to England with EJ.

_("He's Johnny's father, Lucas, and he's being deported. We just have to go over there to get the Green Card situation straightened out. I can't let Johnny go without knowing his father the way Will did…")_

Now, Sami was a graying, misshapen, barely-human body incapable of anger or any other emotion. Looking at her, Lucas felt almost that empty himself.

"Hi, Sami," he said as he sat beside her. "It's me, Lucas. Long time, no talk."

She didn't respond. He realized for the first time that he had somehow expected her to.

"I guess they've told you that you're having surgery today. We all think that this is the best chance you've got of coming back to us. Well, not *us* us since we haven't been an us for a long time, but your kids. Our kids. Coming back to our kids, that's what I meant.

"They're good, so I don't want to you to worry too much. Will's career here at the hospital is going great. I know Tom Horton must be so proud of him. I am, too, I puff up every time I think about him.

"And Allie, she's so sweet and so kind. Everything the world throws at her she finds a way to come out the other side even better. She's doing good in school, she has friends, she has this incredible, indomitable spirit that you don't always see at first if you don't look closely.

"Johnny, I don't know if Will told you that Johnny is my son, too, by blood. The DiMeras fixed the test—big surprise, right? I don't know why we ever believed them after he tested as mine twice. He's not having the easiest time of it. He doesn't want me to be his father. He doesn't want to be in Salem at all. The last time we were here, at the hospital, Shawn had to throw Johnny over his shoulder and carry him out.

"I felt awful about it, because Shawn has his own problems and he had to take the time to help me with my kids. But when I said that to him the other day, and thanked him for helping me, he looked at me like I was crazy.

"And no, I don't want to hear about how Shawn and everyone else has always known that.

"What he said to me was that when you and he and your other cousins were little, your parents and aunts and uncles raised you like you were a litter of puppies. That's Shawn's words, not mine. He said that sometimes the parents hardly differentiated between which kid was a son or a daughter versus a niece or nephew—they just had a triage system and whoever was there took care of the most immediate problem first. He said that he and Belle want to recreate that as much as they can with our kids and their kids.

"It was nice of him, and generous, because I'm taking a lot more from them than I'm giving. But I know that we have a lot of family here and that between us all we can bring Johnny around.

"But, damn it, Sami, it would be better for everyone if you'd wake up and help us out. So you be strong during the surgery, all right? You be smart like Will and brave like Allie and stubborn like Johnny. You be you."

* * *

Will went in next because Lucas wanted to give the twins more time to decide whether they wanted to visit Sami at all, and to prepare them for what they would see.

He barely looked at his mother as he spoke to her—not because he found looking at her difficult, but because there was nothing new to see. Sami's appearance was no surprise to him. He'd sat beside her on the long journey from the facility in London to University Hospital.

"Hi, Mom. It's me again. Dad's getting the twins ready to come see you. After that, you're going into surgical prep. Dr. Karlin won't let me observe. He doesn't want the team being distracted by having the patient's son in the room. He's probably right. He's a really great surgeon and he's pumped to do this operation. Joy's going to assist. You met Joy; she came to England with me to pick you up.

"When I was talking to Joy, I told her about the last time I saw you. A few years ago when you opened your eyes and said EJ's name. And I didn't think until I said it out loud, and until Belle told me what Allie thinks happened to you, that maybe you were trying to tell me who hurt you."

Will swallowed hard. He wasn't sure that this was what his mother needed to hear, assuming she could hear him, but it was what he needed to say. "I thought, at the time, that maybe you were asking to see him. Saying you wanted to see him and not me. Choosing him over me again. And that wasn't fair. I'm really sorry.

"I use you as an excuse sometimes. Like, I don't admit that I'd really like to be… more with Joy than what we are. And I'm sorry about that, too. I'm sorry because it isn't fair to blame you and I'm sorry because I'm pretty sure that if I asked, she'd say yes.

"I really want you to get well, Mom. I've always wanted that. I've always tried to do things so that if you saw me, you could be proud of me. If I said I was angry with you, it was only because I missed you.

"So you're going to come through the surgery and get well, okay? That's how it will be."

Will nodded and left the room. He waved at Lucas, who was still deep in conversation with Allie (Johnny was pointedly ignoring them both), to signal that he would be back soon.

Then he made a beeline for the surgeons' preparation area.

Dr. Karlin spotted him first. "I told you no, Dr. Horton," he said, with all the authority of his position.

"I need to speak with Dr. Wesley for a moment." Joy's red head shot up, and she followed Will out of the room.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Will. "I needed to, um, ask you something." He kicked himself inwardly. He'd never dated very much; he'd been put off of it by his parents' antics and his own hellish work schedule. But he was usually smoother than this.

Joy smiled slightly. "Did you want to lecture me about being too abrupt with the patients? You haven't done that lately."

"No, I…" This wasn't going well at all. Time was short, so Will decided to let actions speak louder than words. He stepped closer to Joy and put his hands on her waist. She looked at him expectantly, so he closed his eyes and brushed his lips over hers.

When he pulled back, he asked "was that okay?" even though Joy's eyes were sparking.

"Better than okay," Joy told him. "What were you waiting on, anyway?"

* * *

When Will left the room, Johnny made no move to step forward, so Allie took her turn. She didn't want to hear her father tell her one more time that maybe she shouldn't see her mother. If she waited until Johnny had his turn, Lucas might ban her from participating altogether.

Somehow, seeing her mother like this wasn't as bad as she expected it to be. But then, she had precious few memories of what her mother was supposed to be like.

"Hi," said Allie to the sleeping woman. "We don't really know each other. I'm Allie. Alice. I just wanted to say that I hope you get well soon. And don't worry too much about the surgery. Dr. Medy says Dr. Karlin is really good. Will says the same thing."

Allie wasn't sure what else she should say. She was sure that she should say _something _else; Lucas and Will had both stayed in here far longer than she had.

Besides, this might be the only time she would ever have the chance to talk to her mother. No one could stop talking about how talented Dr. Karlin was, but Allie wasn't stupid. She knew that there was a chance that the operation wouldn't be successful.

"I remembered something about you a couple of days ago," she blurted out. "I remembered how you got hurt saving me. Johnny doesn't believe me, and maybe he's right and I'm wrong. But if I'm right, I wanted to say thank you for protecting me. I'm okay. I like it here. I like Dad and Will, and Claire and Ciara. And Theo! He was the one who helped me get here.

"Johnny doesn't believe me about EJ. I told you that. We've never fought like this before. It's all right, as long as we don't talk about it we can pretend it didn't happen. And I still love him the best. I know you'd like him if you'd wake up and see him. I'll let him come see you now."

Allie smiled, and left the room feeling lighter than air, although she wasn't sure why.

"I know she's going to be fine, Dad!" she announced. "It's going to work, I know it!"

* * *

Johnny hadn't decided one way or the other whether he wanted to see his "mother" at all. On the one hand, Will seemed to want him to see her, and he didn't like to do anything Will thought was a good idea. On the other hand, Lucas didn't want him to see her, and he didn't like to give Lucas any kind of satisfaction. On the third hand, he was morbidly curious. And on the fourth hand, he was genuinely terrified that he might be sick to his stomach at any second.

But when Allie skipped out, looking ridiculously happy, he darted into the room to escape her. And any time away from Lucas' prying eyes was a good thing.

His stomach lurched when he saw the corpse—no, not a corpse, but as good as—and he closed his eyes for a moment to keep from humiliating himself. He was humiliated on an almost constant basis. He didn't need to add to it.

"I'm not here to see you," he told the corpse when he was able to speak. "I don't know who you are, anyway. I remember you a little bit, I think, but there's no way of being sure. No one really remembers what they saw when they were three, no matter what Allie thinks.

"They keep telling me that you're my mother, and that Allie is my twin, and that Lucas is my real father even though you thought that Father was my father—which he is, by the way. I'm not going to turn off my feelings like a light switch just because someone kidnapped me and faked a DNA test.

"And seriously, if you really are my mother, and Allie's mother, but we have different fathers? That's sick. You must have been a real slut who told everyone Father raped you because you didn't want them to know what a slut you are. There's no way Father raped you. There's no way I'm on this planet because one person raped another person, all right? _That didn't happen!_"

He realized that he was raising his voice and that his fists were clenched. He took a slow, deep breath. Someone could come in here at any time, and he didn't need for whoever it was to see him out of control.

"Apologies for yelling at you," he told the corpse. "Probably you aren't even my mother. Probably it's something they made up." He stepped closer and leaned over the waxy, haggard face. "You do look like Allie might if she was old and dead or something. I can sort of believe you were her mother. And you know, I love Allie. I do! I loved her before any of these idiots ever met her. You wouldn't know it from the way she's always with Claire and Ciara and usually looking at me like she pities me. But other than Father, she's the only person I've ever loved. I should want her to be happy.

"But the thing is, I don't. I don't want her to be happy while she's making up things about Father and me. I don't want you to be happy if you're going to wake up and make stuff up about me too. I want things to go back to the way they were. I had Father and I had Allie and I was at one of the best schools in the world instead of a hick school in a hick town where everyone tells me I talk funny. Did you know that Allie actually had someone teach her to talk like she grew up in America instead of in London?

"I'm losing Allie, and Father's on the run from these people. We were fine. I don't know why they couldn't leave us alone. I don't know why Allie can't see that they're keeping us prisoner. I don't know anything.

"And I don't believe for a second that you can hear anything I'm saying.

"And I don't believe that you'd listen to me if you could."

Johnny backed away from the repulsive lump in the bed and out of the room.

He was so busy avoiding Lucas that he nearly ran into Tyler, Shawn, and Belle, who had presumably come to the hospital to spend time with Claire.

Johnny shoved Tyler hard, just because he could, and then escorted himself out of the building to save Shawn the trouble.

He wandered through the main parking lot and over a dirty snow bank into an auxiliary parking area that was mostly empty.

The January weather was really too cold to be outside for long without a coat, but Johnny didn't have anywhere else to go. So he stayed where he was.

**_TBC_**


	21. At the Hospital

**Part 21- At the Hospital**

Joy bowed her face over the sink as she scrubbed in for Sami Brady's surgery. She didn't want to give the rest of the surgical team a chance to see that her face was almost as red as her hair. She didn't need them to take one look at her and realize she'd been making out with Will Horton.

Making out wasn't quite the right term. But the feather light kiss had promised so much more, and her mind wanted nothing but to imagine what that "more" might be like.

She forced herself to concentrate on soap and water. Scrubbing in was something that she always used to focus herself. It symbolized the moment she changed from someone whose needs and wants were catered to by others to someone whose every thought and movement affected the very life of someone else. All of her life was geared toward making her as perfect as possible in these moments.

Like many of the students, interns, and residents employed at University Hospital, Joy lived in a large apartment complex across the park from the hospital. The concierges there placed her mail on the table inside her apartment; arranged for any repairs; and ran any errands she asked them to run. The dry cleaners in the basement had a sign on its door advising young doctors that it used environmentally friendly, non-hazardous cleaning products like they would want their patients to use. The grocery store next door would deliver items to her refrigerator on a schedule, and was open 24 hours so she could order a prepared meal whenever her shift ended.

So all in all, there were dozens—if not hundreds—of people kept busy making sure that Joy and the other young doctors never had to lift a finger when they weren't working.

Craig loved it. Sometimes he even crashed at Joy's apartment when he could only leave work for a few hours.

Nancy hated it. She always said that it was the job of a wife or a mother, not a building management company, to take care of a young doctor being asked to work for days at a stretch. Joy had a mother, so what was the problem? Every time Nancy saw Joy, she asked whether Joy wasn't ready to come back home—just for a few years, until her career was more established. "I see you less than I see Chloe, and Chloe lives in Vienna!" was something Joy heard on a regular basis.

Sometimes Joy was tempted to go home and let Nancy take care of her; sometimes she even did visit for a day or two. But she was determined that she was going to receive no special treatment from the Chief of Staff, and it was easier to keep that up if she didn't live with the Chief of Staff.

Besides, it would be a lot easier to spend some of her rare free time with Will if he didn't have to risk running into her father the boss.

She swallowed a giggle as she forced Will from her mind once and for all and got into surgery mode.

The room had grown very quiet. Dr. Karlin hated unnecessary noise, and you could always hear a pin drop in the operating theater when he was in charge. Some of the other surgeons liked to play music or allowed a little non-work conversation, but anyone who suggested background music to Dr. Karlin would probably get stabbed with a scalpel. And Dr. Karlin knew his way around a scalpel.

Joy sometimes thought that when she was in charge, she would play recordings of her sister's performances in Vienna. She had grown used to ignoring Chloe's singing at a young age, and now tuning it out helped her concentrate. At school, Joy had often studied for exams while Tartuffe or La Boheme blared in her headphones.

But she could focus in silence, too. She might not be the best daughter or sister or friend, and she would probably make a royal mess of this thing with Will before long, but she was a brilliant surgeon. Excellent. She had studied this procedure over and over. She knew everything about the patient's medical history. She could predict the rest of the team's movements as surely as she could predict her own. Every tool she touched would be an extension of her own hand.

She saw her confidence reflected in the rest of the team as they began their work.

* * *

The operating room was silent, but the waiting room was not.

Lucas knew that the noise would have bothered him, once upon a time. It used to be that when he was worried about someone he cared about, he thought that the rest of the world should stop and worry, too. There would be no shouting, no flirting, and certainly no giggling. (Allie and Ciara hadn't stopped giggling since Ciara, Bo, and Hope had appeared soon after the operation began.)

Now, Lucas didn't mind so much. He definitely didn't mind that Allie was giggling. He loved to see her lighthearted rather than burdened by the world. And he couldn't fault her for her seeming lack of anxiety. Allie had been through a great deal, but she was so young; maybe the rapid changes in her life these past few months had left her believing that things could always work out the way she wanted them to. He wasn't going to burst that bubble of incurable optimism until he had to.

An hour passed.

Eventually, Bo suggested that Ciara and Allie go visit Claire, who was not set to be released until the next day. The two of them happily agreed.

Another hour passed.

Other family members drifted in and out, too. Max and Morgan stopped by to wish them well, but left when their younger son became bored and cranky. Kate and Philip were both loath to be separated from their cell phones for too long. Belle and Shawn were splitting their time between the waiting room and Claire's room. Julie was busy talking to out of town family members about the latest crisis. Every so often, someone would slip out to the back parking lot to make sure Johnny was still there, with instructions to drag him inside if it started to look like he might freeze to death.

Another hour passed.

The biggest uproar came when Abby ran into the room calling for Billie.

"Chelsea's in labor," Abby announced without preamble. There was a chorus of horrified murmurs. Everyone knew it was much too early for Chelsea to be in labor, and everyone knew about Chelsea's history of miscarriages.

"Dr. Baker said this wouldn't happen again!"

Abby shook her head and blinked back tears. "Nick's with her, but…"

Billie left with Abby, and Bo and Hope followed soon after.

Will vanished just as he thought the procedure must be wrapping up so he could thank (and interrogate) the surgical team as soon as possible.

By the time Sami was wheeled into recovery, Lucas was alone in the waiting room. When a nurse offered to take him to sit beside Sami, he followed her obediently.

* * *

At the main entrance, John and Marlena outwardly remarked that the hospital never seemed to change while inwardly hoping against hope that they'd come to reunite with Sami rather than to bury her.

In the chapel, Bo and Hope and Shawn and Belle thanked God for Claire's recovery and prayed for Sami, Chelsea, and Chelsea's baby. Belle managed to suppress the urge to ask God to ruin Philip's date with Abby as long as he was focusing on her family anyway.

In the maternity ward, Abby talked meaninglessly about what she was going to wear when she and Philip went out to dinner in a vain attempt to distract Chelsea from the fact that her contractions were not slowing down.

Outside Chelsea's door, Dr. Baker solemnly told Nick that they were going to have to deliver the baby today, and that a premature baby might still live a long, healthy life.

In a back hallway, Will pulled Joy into a second kiss only to be interrupted by the voice of the Chief of Staff. "When I told you to fix her bedside manner," said Craig, "this is _not _what I meant!"

In the frigid air of the secluded overflow parking lot, Johnny paced anxiously back and forth while he wondered if anyone in the history of the world had ever been as alone as he was now.

Upstairs, in neurosurgery, Allie and Ciara dumped a collection of magazines on Claire's bed and began to sort through them with her.

And in recovery, Sami's eyes fluttered open. A heart monitor showed her pulse quickening as she saw Lucas for the first time in thirteen years.

_**TBC**_


	22. Awakening

**Part 22: Awakening**

Sami fought her way through waves of dizziness and confusion. Each time she wanted to sit up, something seemed to pull her back down. Each time she wanted to open her eyes, something seemed to throw a wet blanket over her face. Each time she wanted to think, something seemed to invite her back into unconsciousness.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was sure she was still dreaming.

Lucas.

_Lucas!_

There was no way Lucas could be here. Lucas was in prison; Sami and the twins were in their own prison with EJ.

She must be dead. There could be neither a heaven nor a hell without Lucas.

"Lucas," she whispered. Her throat was sore, her mouth was dry, and her voice was non-existent. His name was delicious all the same.

When he took her hand in both of his, a jolt went through her that should have made her whole body jump with energy and need. But her body stayed where it was.

"Welcome back, Sami," he said, his voice an octave higher than it should have been.

"Love you," she told him.

He didn't respond. He was busy calling for doctors and nurses. Hadn't he been able to read her lips? Hadn't he noticed? He wasn't still mad about EJ, was he? Hadn't they all been punished enough?

Within seconds, the room was filled with people clad in lab coats and scrubs. Lucas backed into a corner so she couldn't see him. She didn't like that very much, but she did like it when someone removed the tube from her throat and let her take a small sip of tepid water.

She was poked and prodded in a thousand ways and asked a thousand questions. When the thousand and first question—something about whether she could feel a feather tickling her toe—came around, she decided that she had more than had enough.

"Where are the twins?" she demanded.

"Ms. Brady—" one of the men in sweaty scrubs tried, but Sami wasn't having any of it. She had been uncommonly patient already. She wasn't going to answer any more questions until she got the answers she wanted.

"Allie and Johnny! Where are they?" It was annoying that she couldn't get enough air into her lungs to raise her voice the way she wanted to. It was annoying that she couldn't lift her own head to look around. "Does EJ have them? Lucas! Is Lucas still here?"

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucas came close to her again. "Allie? Johnny? Will?" she asked, staring hard into his eyes as if she could pull the answers out of him with or without his willing participation.

"The twins are fine," he told her, and her heart leapt. "They're in Salem with me."

"Will?" she prompted hoarsely. "What about Will?"

"Will is great."

"Is he here? Or is he still with Austin and Carrie?"

"He's here. He was waiting for you to wake up with the rest of us," said Lucas smoothly, but Sami saw the tiny hesitation, the almost imperceptible jutting out of his chin. She knew Lucas inside-out, better than she knew herself, better than he knew himself. Years of plots to ruin Austin and Carrie's relationship had long since taught her all of Lucas' tells. He wasn't technically lying, no, Lucas was more crafty than that; but she could be certain that he was leaving something out.

"What's wrong with Will?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said, and that time he wasn't lying. She searched his face carefully. Prison had been hard on him. There were lines on his face; the hair at his temples was more gray than dark. It seemed like he had aged ten years rather than three. He was no less handsome, of course. Sami had never seen anyone so beautiful. (Lucas didn't really like to be called beautiful. But he was beautiful, whether he liked it or not.)

"Why aren't you in prison?" she breathed.

"Philip hired a good legal team." Again, he was telling the truth. Again, she was sure it wasn't the whole truth.

"How did you get Johnny and Allie to Salem? Where's EJ?"

"That's a long story, and if I knew where EJ was I'd shoot him again."

Sami wasn't really interested in EJ. They were getting off the subject. "I want to see the twins. And Will."

"I'm not sure that's such a good—"

"If you love me, you'll let me see my children." There was no response. Lucas glanced anxiously at the man in the sweaty scrubs. "Okay, so you're still mad at me and you don't love me like I love you. But I'm still those children's mother. I get to see them!"

"I don't have any intention of keeping you away from them," said Lucas quietly. "I think I learned that lesson a long time ago. I just want everyone to be prepared before you meet them."

_"Meet _them? Lucas, I _know _them! I gave birth to them! I carried them inside of me for nine months!"

Again, Lucas seemed to want to defer to the man in sweaty scrubs. "Dr. Karlin—"

"Don't talk to him! Talk to me! I'm your wif— I mean, the mother of your children!"

"You might as well resolve this now," the man—Dr. Karlin—told Lucas. "She's becoming agitated. I don't want to risk sedating her this soon after surgery."

Lucas sighed, and looked as if he somehow felt that he was doing this against his better judgment. "Sami, how old are Allie and Johnny?"

"They just turned three," Sami blurted out before she realized what an odd question it was. She saw the pain on his face, and she suddenly thought she understood his earlier hesitation. She thought she understood the gray hairs and the lines on Lucas' face, too.

Lucas looked like he was about to cry, and she wanted to reach for him and tell him it would be all right. But her hand flopped weakly beside her instead of tracing down Lucas' ravaged face.

"Lucas, how long was I asleep?" She kept her voice as neutral as possible and tried to let Lucas know that she wouldn't lose control and do something they'd both regret later. She wouldn't make this harder on him.

He opened and closed his mouth. It seemed that she wasn't the only one having trouble speaking.

"How long?" she prompted.

"Ten years. Sami, Johnny and Allie turned thirteen last fall."

"Ten…" She couldn't bring herself to repeat it. It had to be a joke. "Lucas, this isn't funny."

"No one said it was."

"Do I have amnesia?" she asked, clamping onto the theory as a lifeline. If she had memories of the past ten years, memories of her children, memories of Lucas, she could get them back. She could recover them. If she had no memories of her twins to recover—if she'd missed their childhood entirely—

"Not amnesia, Sami," Lucas said very, very quietly. "You've been in a coma."

"Ten years," Sami managed at last. "Ten years?"

Lucas nodded almost imperceptibly.

"It can't be true, Lucas, you know it can't! Lucas, tell me it isn't true!"

Lucas closed his eyes and shook his head.

"My twins—Allie and Johnny are—they're so grown up and they don't remember me at all?"

"Allie remembers you. I know that for a fact. I'm sure Johnny does, too, but he hasn't talked to me about it."

"But not like—I missed their whole lives, I was never there for them. They must hate me."

"They know it isn't your fault."

"Don't tell me what a kid feels when her mother comes back from the dead. I know what that feels like." Her eyes widened in the dim light. "Who's their mother, Lucas?"

Lucas didn't seem to understand the question. "You're their mother, Sami. You know that and so do they."

"No. Who—who's been raising them? Who helps with their homework, who makes sure they eat dinner, who sits with them when they're sick? Who helps Allie get ready for the dances at school?"

"Will is great, of course. Shawn and Belle and Philip have been a lot of help."

"Who are you dating? I know you're dating someone."

"No one has been auditioning to be their stepmother, if that's what you're getting at."

"It is."

Sami fell silent for a moment, and that was all it took for Dr. Karlin and his crew to resume poking and prodding her.

"I want to see them. Now. And Will," said Sami firmly when she'd recovered just a little.

Dr. Karlin pointed at a young woman whose flaming red hair was poking out from beneath its covering. "Dr. Wesley, go get Dr. Horton. I assume you know where to find him. Mr. Horton, I suggest that you prepare the younger children. She can't possibly remain this lucid for much longer, but I don't want her any more upset than she already is."

"So you're just waiting for me to lose consciousness?" Sami demanded.

"No, I'm going to permit you to see your children. But it will be one at a time and it will be brief. You can't do ten years of catching up in one day. All right?"

"All right," Sami agreed, slightly mollified. Her anger rose again when she heard Will's voice just outside the door.

"… Only good news, and only in small doses."

She couldn't even see Will, and already he was patronizing her.

But then, Will had first patronized her when he was five years old.

Maybe even four.

She prepared herself to explain to Will in no uncertain terms that he was going to give her all the news, good, bad, and indifferent, in an appropriately large dose.

Then Will opened the door and all of Sami's words vanished.

He was tall—she'd already known that. He was handsome—that came as no surprise, since he looked like his father.

But he was definitely now an adult. Somehow, he seemed more _Will _than he had ever been before, since his wisdom and maturity had been a bit disconcerting on an eleven-year-old.

"I'll give you a few minutes, but only a few, Dr. Horton," said Dr. Karlin. He and his minions left.

Sami almost protested being left alone with yet another doctor when she wanted time with Will. Then she realized that "Dr. Horton" was none other than her son. Her son the stranger—and yet, not.

"Doctor?" she asked softly.

Will nodded as he sat beside her. "Hi, Mom."

"What's your specialty?" she asked, sounding ridiculous to her own ears. She might as well have been asking him what his sign was. (That, at least, she knew. Scorpio.)

"Family medicine. It's the primary care stuff that I really like to do."

There was an awkward pause, which infuriated Sami; she didn't have time for awkward pauses, especially not with her son.

"Tell me everything that's important to you," she ordered Will.

His smile wobbled and agony flashed in his clear hazel eyes. "The most important thing is that you're doing better."

She tried to reach for him, to stroke his hair, to tell him that there was no reason for him to feel anything but happy. As it had with Lucas, her body disobeyed her. She was forced to settle for words.

"I love you Will."

"I love you too, Mom."

At least one of the men in her life still did.

"And I'm so proud of you! A doctor! I thought about being a doctor for a while, but I hated the blood. And then…"

"And then you had me."

"And I realized that I couldn't spend one second studying when I could be hanging out with the best person I'd ever met. I love you so much, Will. I know I already said that, but the last I remember you were so angry with me—and you were right."

"No, I wasn't. I wasn't right about you. I know you were just trying to help our family, trying to save us. I know you didn't—you didn't love EJ more than me."

"I don't love anyone more than you. Least of all EJ DiMera. Will, do you know where he is?"

Will shrugged. "Why do you care?" The utter vulnerability was gone, replaced by a caustic edge.

"I care because I want to know that you and your brother and sister are safe and far away from him."

"We are." He got to his feet and kissed Sami on her cheek. "I'll send in the twins." She knew that she had said something wrong. As soon as EJ's name had crossed her lips, Will had vanished and Dr. Horton had replaced him.

EJ ruined everything.

She didn't have time consider, though, because a hallucination appeared Will's place.

She was looking at herself at the age of thirteen.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

"Allie?" she breathed.

The girl nodded. "Yes. I mean, I'm her."

"How are you?"

"Fine," said Allie politely.

Sami had a thousand questions for the stranger before her. This time, she really was reduced to not knowing much besides the girl's sign. (Right on the line between Libra and Scorpio.)

She forced herself to remember what it had been like when her father—well, John—marched her and Eric into the living room and announced that the "nice lady" they had seen in the park was their mother. A feeling of dread washed over her. She remembered unwillingly steeling herself to hug the stranger because John had asked her to. She remembered the vague hope that this new force in her life would go back to where it had come from and leave her happy family alone.

What did she wish her mother had told her?

"I want you to know that I'm not going to do anything to change your life if you don't want me to. I'm not here to take anything away from you."

"Okay," said Allie.

"I just want to know that you and your brothers are happy."

"We are," said Allie.

Now Sami knew something else about Allie. The girl couldn't lie worth a damn. Lucas had been right to forbid Sami to name this child "Jezebel."

"Do you get along with your brothers?" Sami tried.

Allie lit up a little. "Johnny and I have always been really close. I don't know Will very well, but I like him. I guess everybody likes Will."

"And Johnny? Does everybody like him?"

A flush crossed Allie's face. "Johnny just came here right before Christmas."

"Where was he before?"

"At school. In… France," said Allie hastily. "It's his turn to talk to you. They said I could just say hello. I'm glad you're awake and I hope you feel better soon."

Allie bolted from the room.

Sami barely had time to prepare herself for the child that she worried for the most. Allie and Will were half Lucas; she had known that they would find their ways. But Johnny… EJ had started filling Johnny's head with spite and egoism before the boy could talk. Even when Johnny was a small baby, before Sami had gone to England, her only dreams of his future had been nightmares.

Johnny glided through the door and perched beside Sami in one fluid moment. He squeezed her hand with his; he was colder than ice, and Sami shivered.

Johnny pulled his hand back gracefully. "I trust that your needs are being seen to?" he asked with an aristocratic English accent.

"Are you my son or the hospital's quality control department?" she asked him.

"My parentage has been called into question recently, as you've doubtless been advised. Regardless, I certainly wish you well."

Sami's coma-addled brain was slow to decode Johnny's remark. _What thirteen-year-old talks like this? Right, one raised by the DiMeras._

She couldn't bring herself to tell Johnny, as she had told Allie, that she had no desire to uproot him. He needed uprooting.

_Parentage?_

She couldn't ask him straight out, not when he had been instructed not to tell her anything. She had to work with his assumption that she already knew.

"How is that going?" she asked. "The… questions about your parentage. I hope it isn't too stressful."

"It's nothing I can't handle," he told her. "EJ DiMera will always be my father, and no faked DNA test or injunctive custody order or biologically unlikely tale will alter that."

Sami's heart began to pound and her monitors began to scream. Johnny's head snapped toward the machines.

"Shall I call the doctor?" he asked.

"No!" Sami snapped. "Did—did Lucas tell you that he's your father?"

"That's his story."

"Oh, God. Oh, God. LUCAS! LUCAS!"

She didn't see Johnny jump from the room only to have Will grab him by his collar and demand to know what he'd done. She didn't hear Johnny's protestations that he'd been a perfect gentleman. All she could do was scream for Lucas.

Lucas would never have claimed to be Johnny's father unless it was the truth.

But if Lucas was Johnny's father, than it had all been for nothing.

Ten years without the twins for nothing.

Thirteen years without Lucas and Will for nothing.

Leaving her children like she'd always sworn she never would for nothing.

Destroying the family she'd craved for nothing.

Lucas' shadowed eyes and silvered sideburns for nothing.

Will's guilt and anger and doubts for nothing.

Allie's distant one word answers for nothing.

Johnny raised in the shadow of a sociopath for nothing.

* * *

"I knew we shouldn't have let Johnny in here! Damn it!"

Dr. Karlin's hands and eyes were all over the room, but he answered Lucas. "I was trying to prevent something like this. She was so upset, and so adamant that she see her children. We might have gotten this reaction if we hadn't indulged her."

Sami writhed and choked on the bed. Lucas' name was frozen on her lips.

Lucas reached for her hand as Dr. Karlin, Joy Wesley, and two other doctors debated a mild sedative versus a strong sedative versus doing nothing.

"Sami, listen, whatever Johnny said, it's not that bad. Johnny lies. Not to say I don't love him, of course I do, and we're working with him, but everything's all right. I'm right here, and Allie and Johnny and Will are all fine."

Sami had gone somewhere she couldn't hear him. Her eyes were open and her face was contorted with grief or rage she couldn't express.

"That blood pressure has to go down now if we don't want to undo everything we've done," Dr. Karlin told the others firmly, and Joy, who seemed to have won the argument, triumphantly injected something into Sami's arm.

Sami slept again.

_**TBC**_


	23. Two Mothers

**Part 23- Two Mothers**

Nancy Wesley loved her husband more than she could express. Their phenomenally successful marriage had given them two brilliant daughters; a bright career for Craig; more wealth and power than they had dared hope for; and the daily blessing of a partner in life, crime, or passion as the moment demanded.

Nancy and Craig rarely fought.

But today was one of those rare occasions.

Craig glared at Nancy over his paper cup of subpar coffee. "He was kissing her," Craig said, as if that explained everything.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Well, let's lock him up and throw away the key, then."

"He is a resident in this hospital. He is a resident I trusted with the development of our best young talent, including Joy. And what did he do? He kissed her."

"As I recall, you didn't get through your entire residency without kissing anyone."

"You weren't my student."

"Joy isn't Will's student, either."

"I'm sorry," said Craig, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I didn't realize that you were the Chief of Staff here."

"Well, you should have," said Nancy tartly. "Do I need to remind you how many seats Will Horton's family controls on the Board? Do I need to remind you that his family BUILT this hospital? And from what I've heard you say, he inherited his great-grandfather's talent. Of course, his parents are a drawback—though no one deserves what poor Sami went through—but Will seems perfectly stable. Handsome, too. He'd be a perfect match for Joy. The right connections and she seems to like him—it's a win-win, Craigy."

Craig muttered something unintelligible.

"Do you have any real objection to Will, or do you just not want anyone kissing your little girl?"

"Her career means everything to her. She doesn't need an extra complication while she's just starting out."

Nancy scoffed. "You don't even believe that yourself."

"Not really," Craig conceded. He slumped back in his desk chair. "When did she get old enough to date?"

"Ten years ago?"

Craig glared. Nancy smiled sweetly. "Never mind, I'll fix this today. You can get me permission to see Sami?"

"She's recovering from experimental surgery. She needs rest and physical therapy."

Half mockingly, Nancy clasped her hands over her heart. "It's always good therapy for a mother to know that her son is dating a beautiful, successful young woman."

* * *

Sami wasn't having a good day. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a good day. Probably, she wouldn't recognize a good day if it hit her over the head.

She winced, and managed to move her hand to the bandage over her head where her hair had once been. If a good day hit her over the head, she would need more surgery, and then it would no longer be a good day.

Her memory of her last fight with EJ—her horror at seeing his hand on Allie's thigh, his anger as he shoved her away—was remarkably clear. She had already shared her recollections with the police and the ISA. They hadn't told her much in exchange, and she couldn't bring herself to care. She knew that EJ would never be brought to justice. She had spent her whole life watching Stefano evade the grasp of the authorities time and time again. His son was no different.

She wasn't allowed to have visitors other than her doctors and her therapists and the detectives who wanted to know everything she'd ever heard EJ say about his businesses and properties. The doctors assured her that her family wanted to see her, but were firm about waiting until Sami was stronger.

There was an upside to not being allowed to see anyone she loved, and that was that they couldn't see her, either. She had been appalled when she'd first caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her skin was rough and sallow; her hair was gone; her arms and legs were too weak to move properly; her breasts drooped; her neck barely supported her head.

Maybe that was why Lucas wouldn't say he loved her, too. Maybe once she had recovered he would think she was beautiful again.

She clung to that idea. The alternative, that Lucas just didn't love her, was too painful.

She was able to stand the ache of physical therapists yanking her arms and legs this way and that because she knew that each jolt of pain brought her closer to being someone that Lucas and their children could bear to love.

"One," the therapist counted, and that twinge was for Lucas.

"Two," was for Will.

"Three," for Allie.

"Four," for Johnny.

"Five," and that was Lucas again.

The therapists said she was making good progress. She could move a little, now, and her speech was much better—at least when she wasn't gritting her teeth in agony.

There was a knock on her door.

"You already tortured me today!" she called out, but she knew that she would welcome another session if it would get her back to Lucas and their children any sooner. Perhaps she could request extra therapy? Tell her tormentors that she wasn't getting tired out at all on their current program, even though she rarely did anything but sleep when they weren't with her?

But her visitor, although familiar, wasn't one of the therapists.

"I'm Nancy Wesley. I don't know if you remember me."

"Of course, Nancy," Sami said, while wondering why a woman who had been on the jury that had sent her to death row was allowed to visit her when her son the doctor was not.

"I think you've spent some time with my daughter Joy. She did your surgery. Well, she wasn't the lead surgeon of course—she's so young—"

"She's younger than Will," Sami remembered with some dismay. Children were performing complex medical procedures and she had only just relearned how to grab things with her hands.

Nancy grinned like a cat that had eaten at least half a dozen canaries. "It's funny that you should mention Will when I was discussing Joy."

"Why is that funny?"

Nancy didn't answer. She was fumbling in the pocket of her ridiculous candy-striper apron for a cell phone.

"Look!" she said proudly, pushing a button so a photograph of her younger daughter appeared on the screen. "Isn't Joy just gorgeous and adorable at the same time? I love that her hair is so red, and she doesn't dye it, either. You mostly see her when she's working—so dedicated to her job—and scrubs and lab coats don't really flatter anyone, do they? But she's a wonderful surgeon. I don't need to tell you that, she helped save your life, and she doesn't take any favors just because she's the daughter of the chief of staff. She wants to do it all on her own."

"She's beautiful," Sami said, more to shut Nancy up than because she was particularly impressed with the picture. Joy was prettier in person; she was obviously more comfortable in lab coats than in evening gowns.

"That was taken after one of my daughter Chloe's performances last year," Nancy said as she put the phone away.

"That explains why Joy looked like she was in pain," Sami said before she could stop herself.

Suddenly, Nancy didn't look so friendly.

"I mean—because the music must have been so incredible, so moving it was almost painful," Sami corrected.

Nancy's eyes remained narrow, but she pretended to accept Sami's excuse. "I didn't come here to talk about Chloe."

"You came here to talk about Joy."

"Joy. Joy and Will."

"Joy and Will?" Suddenly, the pieces dropped into place for Sami. She sat bolt upright, not caring that her muscles screamed in protest. "You mean, Joy and Will are_ JoyandWill_?" For the first time since she'd awoken to the sight of Lucas, Sami felt an overwhelming desire to smile. The grin felt unfamiliar on her face.

Nancy returned the smile conspiratorially, temporarily forgetting the insult to her elder daughter. "They were moving in the right direction, but then my husband—I love him dearly, but you know how men can be about their daughters—voiced his disapproval at an inopportune moment." She raised her hand to stop Sami from rising to Will's defense. "Now, you and I both know that my Joy is lucky to have your Will." Sami nodded firmly. "I was hoping for a little help in correcting the situation."

"I'm not in a position to be of much help to anyone," Sami grimaced.

"I'm not asking you to turn cartwheels. I'm asking for more of a bait and switch. I need to get them into the same room alone so Joy can tell Will that Craig would never really retaliate against him and Will can assure Joy that he doesn't hate her because her father decided to behave like an idiot for no discernable reason."

"What did you have in mind?"

But the specifics of Nancy's plan were doomed to remain secret a little while longer.

"Mom, what are you doing in here?" Joy's eyes flashed with barely-controlled anger, and Sami couldn't help but be amused at the thought of her cool, collected son involved with this fiery young woman.

"There's no need to be upset, sweetheart. Sami and I are old friends, and we were just catching up—"

"Ms. Brady isn't allowed to see her own family, and you never even mentioned knowing her until I started spending time with Will—"

Sami heard the ten thousand conflicting emotions in the way Joy said Will's name, and she approved. She beamed at the young woman. This was not lost on Joy.

"Oh my God," Joy groaned. "You were in here talking about Will and me?" Her attention bounded between her mother and her patient. "You could have killed her, Mom! What if her blood pressure had spiked?" She reached for the phone beside the bed and furiously pounded in a few numbers. "Dad? No, I'm not speaking to you, I'm speaking to the chief of staff. Did you know Mom was in Ms. Brady's room?"

"You can call me Sami," said Sami innocently. Joy ignored her.

"Don't bother your father, Joy. He's very busy," said Nancy. Joy ignored her, too.

Nancy made a great show of patting Sami's hand and wishing her well before she escorted herself out the door. Joy, still flushed and angry, followed.

Sami put her physical therapy to use in picking up the cell phone Nancy had slipped under her sheet beside her hand. She read:

_Sami—_

This is Will's phone number. Please call him and convince him to meet you in the small room behind the chapel at 6:00 tonight. When he gets there, he will find Joy and a candlelit dinner. The door will mysteriously lock from the outside for an hour.

Nancy

It wasn't a bad plan, Sami had to admit. It was bound to work, and she would get to talk to Will. Her fingers itched to press the phone's SEND button.

But then she stopped. She knew Will. She knew that Will wouldn't dump a woman he really liked because her father was his boss. If he was avoiding Joy, it was because he didn't like Joy… or because his experience with his parents had finally convinced him that love was a destructive illusion.

The last thing she wanted to do, when Will had barely forgiven her for divorcing his father, was lie to him.

She pushed SEND.

He answered almost immediately. Her breath caught at the sound of his voice.

"Hi, Will. It's Mom."

"Mom? What are you doing?" His words so echoed Joy's that Sami stifled a giggle. They were rubbing off on each other already.

"I'm calling my son to talk to him. That's allowed."

"No, Mom, actually, it isn't. Where are you and how did you get—the caller ID says that you're calling from Nancy Wesley's phone."

"She loaned it to me. Don't be angry at her, Will, she just wanted to try to make up for Craig coming between you and Joy."

"By risking my mother's life? And I don't know what she told you, but there is no me and Joy." She could hear Will's breathing. She suspected that he had started to run.

"Would you like there to be?" she asked as gently as she could, and she could feel Will give in. His steps and his breathing slowed, and his words were less certain.

"I don't know. I thought I didn't, and then I thought I did, and now…"

"Maybe you could meet her for dinner tonight at six? There's a room behind the chapel?"

"This is what you and her mother were talking about?"

"Yes. I was supposed to tell you to meet me there, but I want you to have a choice. After everything that's happened between us, I don't want to manipulate you even a little bit."

There was a knock on her door, and a second later Will entered, face flushed, phone in hand. Sami felt a thrill of delight and a pang of shame. Here was her beautiful son; she could stare at him for the rest of her life and it would never be enough. But she had frightened him into breaking the rules, and Will didn't like to break rules. (Sami had no idea where Will had gotten that, because it wasn't from her or Lucas.)

And when she'd last seen him, she'd had no idea what he was seeing. She was no longer beautiful. She barely even looked human. But Will didn't seem to notice. He looked her in the eyes, as if all he saw was his mother. It was enough to make her want to cry, but she couldn't cry. She couldn't upset Will any more. This was about Will. This was about her first chance in thirteen years to affect Will's happiness.

"So you don't want to manipulate me," Will said, and it was definitely Will rather than Dr. Horton.

"All I want is for you to meet Joy for dinner if you're interested." She eyed the jeans Will was wearing under his lab coat. "And put on something nicer than that if you go."

Will rolled his eyes. "Any other instructions?"

Sami was fairly certain that there was real vulnerability under the sarcasm, so she kept her answer straightforward and mild. "Nancy plans to lock you in the room for an hour, so be sure you're prepared for that. I doubt that she's telling Joy the truth about what's going on—I doubt Joy's speaking to her at the moment—so expect that. Have you and Joy been out together before? Nancy said something about Craig interrupting you."

Will lowered his head and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"We were just kissing."

It took real skill to keep herself from smiling. A grown man Will might be, but he had never been secure about this sort of thing. He'd put his head down and mumbled the same way when he'd refused to go to the middle school dance because there would be slow dancing, and what did he know about slow dancing?

"Well, if you've already kissed her, maybe you should bring her flowers."

"To this ambush date that I don't know about?"

Sami shrugged as best as she could. "You were a boy scout. They taught you to be prepared, didn't they?"

"For this? No, they didn't cover crazy moms getting together to lock up their adult children against their will."

"Well, they should have. When I'm feeling better, I think I'll demand our money back."

"Same old Mom." Will almost smiled.

"I love you, Will. I don't want you to go if you don't want to. But if you think you might be interested, if you think you might like Joy, it's one hour out of your life."

Will closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "You're so much better at this than Dad is."

_Yeah, well, Mr. I-lost-my-virginity-at-14 never took these things as seriously as you do,_ Sami thought but didn't say. _He's probably stringing along six different girls now, too._ "What's he been saying?"

Will groaned. "I don't want to talk about it. You've met Joy?"

"She's one of about thirty people who pokes me on a daily basis, yes. And today she came in to throw her mother out. She really likes you."

"You could tell by the way she threw her mother out of a room her mother broke about fifty rules by going into?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Will's eyes swept over the monitors. "It doesn't seem to have done you any harm," he said begrudgingly. "Maybe they can speed up letting the family in here. Some of the family. Grandma Marlena and Aunt Belle have medical training. They're low risk, we could start with them."

"I'd love to see them," Sami said, even though her mother and sister were a poor substitute for Lucas and the twins. But the twins were probably terrified of her, and Lucas… well, for Lucas she needed to be beautiful. She needed to knock his sluts—she was sure he had them—out of his mind.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she awoke it was night and Will was gone.

* * *

Will hastily rearranged his schedule and ran home to change. The twins were sitting at the kitchen table doing their homework. Allie called out a sweet hello; Johnny pretended that Will didn't exist.

He could barely remember the last time he'd been on a date. Work was one long grind that never let up, and the sudden appearance of his parents and siblings had taken up any energy he'd had left. Whatever his excuses, though, he wasn't sure what to wear. He thought about it while he was in the shower and decided that the dark blue sweater Aunt Maggie had gotten him for Christmas would do.

When he ran back down the stairs, Allie greeted him with a wolf whistle. "Hot date?" she asked.

"None of your business," he said, because hadn't she once dragged him into her therapy session to tell him not to treat her gently?

"I really like Joy Wesley!" she shouted after him as he slammed the door.

He bought the flowers and stuffed them into a book bag, although he wasn't sure that that wouldn't kill them.

He was back at work fifteen minutes before the appointed time. At the nurses' station, he learned that Joy should be completing her rounds. He found her easily.

She jumped a little when she noticed him. Her eyes might have swept over him, or he might have imagined that.

"You should know," he told her, "that your mother and my mother have a secret plan to lock us up together so we can have a candlelit dinner."

Joy gaped. "It's not a very _secret _secret plan, is it?"

"Not really, no. So I was thinking, we don't have to show up. Or we could show up and fight and scare them a little."

"We could do that," said Joy, but her face fell slightly.

"But then I thought, if you wanted, dinner would be good." He unzipped the book bag and handed her the flowers. "If you wanted," he repeated.

"I do," said Joy, and they set off together to await their ambush.

**_TBC_**


	24. Two Sisters

**Part 24- Two Sisters**

It was strange for Lucas to walk into University Hospital with Belle on one side and Marlena on the other. They weren't his in-laws and hadn't been for many years. But they deferred to him on all matters relating to Sami, despite the fact that both had medical training and standing in the hospital that far outstripped his own. He was considered to be the resident Sami expert.

He wasn't sure if that was flattering or frustrating.

Sami's doctors had just decided that Sami could be permitted to have her first visitors since the day of her surgery. (From what Lucas had gathered from a convoluted conversation with Will, Sami had already had unofficial visits from both Will and Nancy Wesley. He'd tried to get more details, but Will hadn't cared for Lucas' attempts at humor regarding Will's continuing fixation on Nancy's younger daughter and had ended the conversation abruptly.)

"I wish they'd let you go in, Lucas," said Belle wistfully as they drew near Sami's temporary home. "It wasn't you who upset her last time. It was Johnny."

"I was responsible for Johnny. I knew I should have kept him out of there, told Sami he was too young for it. He still insists that he didn't think he was telling Sami anything she didn't already know. Like that kid ever does anything by accident."

"Have you given any more thought to getting counseling for Johnny?" asked Marlena. "Dr. Medy has been very helpful to Allie."

Lucas sighed. "He thinks of himself as—and these are his words, not mine— a prisoner of war. He assured me that he would give name, rank, serial number, and nothing else if I forced him to sit in a psychiatrist's office for an hour."

"I wonder what his serial number is," mused Belle.

"Probably 666," said Lucas.

"Lucas!" Belle and Marlena scolded in unison.

"He's my son and I love him, but that last thing I want to do is be under any illusions about the way he acts. He's a snake and a bully and he'd do just about anything to get back to EJ if he knew how to find EJ. I have to stay one step ahead of him."

"We've got him surrounded," Belle promised.

They were quiet until Lucas left Marlena and Belle at the door and agreed to meet them when their visit was over. He was left with an hour to kill at the hospital.

Before he realized where he was going, he found himself in front of the nursery. Half a dozen babies slept peacefully where Allie and Johnny once had. He spared a moment to hope that no one was lurking around to steal these innocents' childhoods the way EJ had stolen those of his twins.

"Lucas!"

It was a well-known fact that one couldn't hang around University Hospital for very long without running into a Horton.

"Hi, Nick." Nick's broad grin would have been ridiculous had it not been so genuine. His arms were full of a bright-eyed infant—still smaller than the newborns in the incubators below, but several weeks older. "And good morning, Joshua Isaac." Lucas moved into the baby's line of sight, and Nick shifted his son so he could get a better view of his cousin.

"He looks ready to go home," said Lucas as Joshua Isaac's serious, unmoving eyes fixed on him.

"He is! Today!"

Even melancholy thoughts of his own son couldn't keep Lucas from sharing in Nick's delight. "That's great. I'm so happy for you and Chelsea."

"Thanks. Are you here to see Sami?"

"They still won't let me."

"That's crazy," said Nick loyally. "You calm her down, you don't rile her up."

"I've done both," Lucas admitted. Almost unconsciously, he reached out to stroke the baby through his blanket. "He's beautiful, Nick."

He refrained from telling Nick that the most beautiful babies could grow into the most trying teenagers.

* * *

One of the nursing assistants announced to Sami that her visitors were ready to come in if Sami was ready to see them.

More than anything, Sami wished that one of her visitors could be Lucas, but she was also relieved when she was told that that was absolutely not an option until she had "practiced" on people who provoked a less volatile reaction.

In a way it was for the best, she admitted ruefully to herself as she studied her body. She had made great improvements thanks to her therapy, but she wasn't the woman Lucas had fallen in love with so many years ago.

One tear rolled down her cheek, and she hastily swiped it away. If Marlena and Belle entered the room to find her crying, she would probably be set back to no visitors status indefinitely. She had lost enough time already. She needed to get back to her life—back to Will, her twins, and Lucas.

Belle and Marlena greeted Sami with hugs and kisses; Sami had grown strong enough to hug back, though her honest professions of love were mixed with the still-familiar flame of jealousy.

Belle had been a cute teenager and a pretty young woman, but as she approached middle age she was truly beautiful. Belle was like Will; growing older had agreed with her.

Marlena was undoubtedly a woman old enough to have grown grandchildren, but she wore what remained of her great good looks with a grace that made Sami resent her own ruined body anew.

"What are you thinking, Sami?" asked Belle. Without so much as an invitation, she climbed onto Sami's narrow hospital bed and stretched out beside her sister.

Sami stared at the lovely face inches from her own. "I was thinking how beautiful you are."

"Funny," said Belle. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

"So was I," said Marlena, as she settled herself into the chair beside Sami's bed and reached out a hand to take both Sami's and Belle's.

Sami sighed and closed her eyes. "You're both into blotchy skin and baldness?" she asked without meaning to. The last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument with Belle and Marlena over their polite lies.

"We're into having you back with us," Marlena answered. "And your hair and skin will correct themselves."

"Wigs and concealer until then, if you want," offered Belle. "But there are so many people who love you who aren't going to notice or care. We're so glad to have you back, Sami. We've missed you so much. Especially since Allie came home— I still do a double take every time I see her, she looks so much like you."

"Well, you both know more about my daughter than I do," Sami told them with more than a hint of bitterness.

"That can change," said Marlena in her soothing-shrink voice that made Sami even angrier.

"Like it did with you and me?" Sami snapped at her mother. "Maybe fifteen years from now Allie won't hate me?"

"Sami!" Belle reprimanded, because Marlena, to Sami's mean delight, was shocked silent.

"I'm sorry," Sami said automatically.

"If you don't feel like you're ready for this—" Marlena began, but Sami interrupted.

"I do feel like I'm ready for this. I'm frustrated and angry and jealous because I want more. I'm a stranger to Johnny and Allie, I can't talk to Lucas about them, I have no idea how Johnny is handling not being EJ's son, I'm scared of what EJ might have done to Allie, and I have to lie here and think about how Lucas will never want me again because I'm ugly now, and the two of you are so beautiful and you're patronizing me with all this inner beauty stuff, and it makes me feel like I'm the fat kid looking up at my sister the model while she tells me I won't fit into her dress because it's tight even on her."

Sami patiently waited for Belle and Marlena to leave the room and tell her handlers that she needed more time in solitary confinement.

Instead, Belle and Marlena had some sort of nonverbal conversation over Sami's head, which was almost worse.

"All right," said Marlena. "Let's start with Carrie. You were never overweight. You know that. You had a different figure from your sister, and clothes fit you differently. You learned that bulimia was not a good way to deal with your problems, and neither is railing against your appearance now while you're recovering."

"But you will get me the makeup and the wig?" Sami asked Belle. Belle nodded; Marlena continued.

"A lot of time has passed for Lucas. It's been three years for you, sweetheart, but it's been thirteen for him. Maybe you will find your way back to each other and maybe you won't. But either way, he has nothing but love for you. You'd be doing him a great disservice by insisting that the way you look has anything to do with his feelings."

"I know," Sami admitted unhappily.

"Why does it make you sad to know that?"

Sami wasn't about to answer that question. "Tell me about Allie and Johnny," she said instead.

Marlena and Belle gave her some platitudes about "sweet" this and "clever" that. Sami managed to keep herself from having another outburst as she asked for real answers. Like, whether EJ had ever raped Allie.

The look on Belle's face told her all she needed to know.

"Oh God," Sami breathed. "Oh God, after what he did to me, I let him touch her, hold her, I took her to England with us, and she does look like me…" Black spots swam before her vision and a vise closed in around her chest. "Oh God, not Allie. I didn't want to be right."

"He never raped her. Sami, he didn't rape her."

Hoping against hope, Sami stared at Belle. "But he…"

"He… he molested her. He kissed her. It's not like it's all that much better, but it was one time and she got herself out."

"She was apparently very resourceful about getting herself out," Marlena added. "Much like her mother."

"But she can be very cool-headed, like Lucas," Belle added. "Johnny, too. He's great in a crisis. Last month Claire hit her head on a diving board and lost consciousness—"

"Oh no!" Sami's alarm at this unexpected news of the niece she'd forgotten she had kept her from resenting Belle's implication that any common sense her children had must have been inherited from their father.

"She's fine. She was afraid of getting her head shaved, just like you, but she didn't end up needing surgery. But Johnny was the one who pulled all the other kids together and got them to the hospital."

"They get along? Allie and Johnny and Claire?"

Belle bit her lip. "Allie and Ciara and Claire are all very close, just like we wanted for them."

"And Johnny?"

"Johnny has a harder time of it."

Sami scowled. "If I'd been there—"

"Don't go down that road," Marlena warned.

"How can I not go down that road? I made a decision and my children are going to be paying for it for the rest of their lives. You know that, you both begged me not to marry EJ and not to go to England with EJ, but I had to try to save the world. _You_," she gestured at Marlena "didn't leave your kids on purpose," and "_you_," she gestured at Belle, "have probably never been away from Claire."

"Claire, no," said Belle quietly. "But I missed a lot with Tyler."

"Tyler?"

Belle nodded stiffly. "Your nephew. Your nephew you didn't even know about because of his parents' choices."

Belle didn't seem inclined to elaborate. "How? When?" Sami prompted. "And don't take this the wrong way, but who's his father?"

"Philip." Belle rolled her eyes skyward. "God, we can blame EJ for Tyler and for your twins, too. Remember when Philip and I tried to get pregnant, and someone—EJ—switched the embryos?"

"You ended up pregnant with Shawn's baby and Mimi's surrogate got pregnant with Philip's." Sami shuddered. "That was creepy."

"But it wasn't Shawn's baby." Belle's voice shook. "I mean, the baby I miscarried was. Shawn's and Mimi's, just like they planned. The baby the surrogate gave birth to, the one Philip gave up for adoption? That was Tyler. Our child who we wanted and loved. Our child we didn't fight for, didn't double check his DNA, wrote off as some kind of inconvenient outcome of yet another DiMera plot. He was six when we finally got him back. It took two years and I'm not totally convinced Philip didn't have a judge blackmailed to speed it up."

"So you had a daughter with Shawn when you were married to Philip and a son with Philip when you were married to Shawn? That must have been awkward."

Belle looked slightly taken aback; Marlena looked uncharacteristically caustic. "Yes, Belle," said Marlena. "Why don't you tell your sister how awkward that is?"

Belle mumbled something Sami didn't understand—although she caught Abby Deveraux's name—and Marlena apologized and excused herself for some fresh air Sami didn't think she was likely to find anywhere near her hospital room.

"Do you want to pretend that never happened?" Sami asked Belle.

Belle didn't answer. Belle was crying. "Oh, honey," Sami said, pleased that she was able to put her arms around Belle and stroke her hair. "It isn't that bad, is it? If it is, you know I always liked you better when you were screwing up."

Belle laughed wetly and wiped her eyes. "You're going to find out—you'll hear bits and pieces, rumors. To start with, Shawn and I are married, but we live at the Kiriakis Mansion."

"And where does Philip live?" Sami prompted.

"A lot of the time he's at Titan all night, or traveling for business. More often than not. But sometimes he lives with us. Claire still thinks of him as her second father, you know, and Tyler responds better to Shawn than he does to Philip or to me. We all want Claire and Tyler to have the best, both materially and the most time with all of their parents—"

"Don't tell me that. You're a married woman. If you're living with your ex-lover, it isn't about Tyler or Claire."

"That's how Mom feels about it, too." Belle mimicked Marlena's voice. "'Have you forgotten who you're married to? Again?'"

"I'm sure she didn't say it that way."

"Maybe not. But it's what she means. I knew she'd feel that way, and I always downplayed how… integral Philip is to our lives when she called from Switzerland. But when she came here, with everything going on, we couldn't really hide it."

"What exactly are you hiding? Or not hiding?"

"Nothing, if Abby has her way," Belle snapped. "Not, that's not fair. I've always liked Abby. Not for Philip, but I like her. But when I hear Philip gushing about how she has this 'perpetual innocence' or something—yeah, like that's what he needs, someone innocent."

Belle looked distraught enough that Sami almost considered withholding the lecture. But, damn it, Belle obviously needed the lecture. After all these years, she still had two men locked in her orbit. She was truly Marlena's daughter. "You chose Shawn. You have to let Philip have his own love and his own family."

"We love him and we are his family! Sami, I tried to do the right thing. We tried. Not that long after you left, Shawn and I took Claire and went to sail around the world, like his parents did. We told ourselves that we were fine. We told ourselves that we were on an adventure and we didn't need anything but each other. Some of it was true. We met wonderful people and we saw interesting places and we loved each other like crazy.

"Then we got the message that some cop who thought he deserved a promotion Hope got kidnapped Ciara for ransom. We came home to see her. We could hear Bo and Hope screaming at each other from outside the house, so we walked down the pier. And when we saw Philip…"

Belle shivered at the memory. "It wasn't just me and Philip, it was Shawn and Philip too. It was the sun coming out in the middle of the night. It was getting filled in where you didn't know you were hollow. We don't work unless it's all three of us. We never have, not since we were kids. When I was with Shawn, he was always telling Philip to take care of me. Same with Philip telling Shawn. They need each other and they both need me. It's not like I'm— well, as soon as we came back Claire attached herself to Philip again. But he got so he couldn't look at her because he felt so bad about giving Tyler up for adoption. We went to visit Tyler, we had the names of his adoptive parents. We thought Philip would feel better when he understood how happy Tyler was with his family. Then we saw him—he has Philip's dimples, but he has my eyes. I tried to ignore it. We talked to his parents and they said Bonnie Lockhart tried to extort money from them, threatened to take Tyler away if they didn't pay. And the tests showed that Tyler wasn't Mimi's son at all. And we all knew that if he wasn't Mimi's, he had to be mine. And I'd never given up my parental rights, but I'd been off sailing with Shawn and Claire for four years…"

She shook her head. "Sami, you've just come back and I'm talking about me, and I ran our mother out of the room. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Sami, feeling more honest and happy than she had since the beginning of the visit. "You've really cleared something up for me."

"Do I want to know what?"

"Me getting Lucas back doesn't seem like such a long shot if you can have a three-way marriage for that long. Lucas and I getting back together might be crazy, but it's not as crazy as all that. And Belle?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to get them to let me see Lucas. You have to get Lucas to come in here even if they won't give him permission. You know what it's like to… be hollow and need to be filled in. You know what it's like to be separated from your child. I need to learn about Allie and Johnny. Lucas should be the one teaching me. You're a mother. You get that."

"I don't know…" Belle began, but Sami stopped her with a hard look.

"Get Lucas in here. Now."

_**TBC**_


	25. Twenty Questions

**Part 25- Twenty Questions**

"Lucas," Sami breathed. Her eyes locked hard on his. Like Will, he looked at _her_—not at her improving-but-decimated body.

As much as she wanted to stare into him forever and pretend that they'd never been apart, she needed to begin the process of repairing their family. "I have a thousand questions for you."

Lucas glanced nervously at the door. "I'm not supposed to be in here. I think security will throw me out before you get to a thousand." Sami's insides twisted at seeing him so uncomfortable. Lucas might have left scheming behind when he'd become a father, but it wasn't like him to be timid in the face of authority.

Or maybe it was. Three years for her, she knew, had been thirteen for him. And she wasn't sure how long he'd been in prison. She'd been to prison, too. She knew that it was hard to get used to committing the most minor infractions (and everything was an infraction) once you left.

"Don't worry. We'll tell security that it wasn't your fault, that I made you come in."

"You made me?"

"I made you. I can be very irresistible." To her surprise, she heard her voice take on a flirtatious tone. "They would believe it. They'll probably even let you stay all day and all night, telling me everything."

Lucas laughed. Sami wasn't sure whether to be offended or thrilled at the sound, so she put off that decision until later. "We can start with you telling me what's so funny."

"I always tell Allie—everyone always tells Allie—how much she reminds me of you, how much she looks like you. But this time, it's you reminding me of her." He flashed a smile that made Sami glad that she was already lying down. "It's nice."

"How am I reminding you of Allie?"

"The first day she came to stay with me, she wanted to know everything, all at once. For a while we had a rule that she got one big question a day so she'd have time to digest what I was telling her without getting overwhelmed." Sami could feel the warmth of the memory. It was good to know that Allie and Lucas and Will had each other.

"I'm a lot older than Allie, so I think I should get a lot more than one question. Maybe a hundred?"

"Maybe twenty. Twenty questions, that sounds right. They should make a game and call it that."

Sami nodded her agreement. Either Lucas would be removed from her room before they got to twenty, or he would lose count and keep answering.

Still, she didn't know where to start. _Is there any chance you could love me again? _was her first thought, but it wasn't the most important thing. She didn't know how to phrase her fears for Johnny and Allie, and she wasn't even sure how much time Lucas had spent with them.

That was the starting point.

"When did you get out of prison?"

"October."

Sami blinked. "October, October? October of this past fall, October?"

"Yes. So, you're up to what, three questions?"

"Clarification doesn't count as its own question!" Sami snapped. Fury and indignation were pounding through her veins. Lucas had been in prison for thirteen years, and he hadn't even killed EJ. EJ had never served a day in prison, and he had… "Thirteen years, Lucas. They locked you up for thirteen years?"

"Technically, I still got out early." Lucas shrugged, as if there was nothing more to be said about it.

"Did they—did they hurt you in prison? Did they yell at you, did they beat you up, did they…"

"No one did to me what Alan Harris did to you, if that's what you're asking," said Lucas flatly. "There's always a lot of yelling, and there are always fights, but I was never hurt very badly. And that _does _count as your second question."

Abruptly, Sami realized that Lucas was limiting the questions as much to protect himself as to protect her. He didn't want to relive any of things she wanted to hear about. "You can pass on some of the questions," she told him quietly. "We'll skip to the next one."

Lucas ignored her. "What's number three?"

Sami pressed on. The next question was obvious, and it might offend Lucas, but she absolutely had to have an answer for everyone's sake. "Have you been off the wagon since you got out? Or… while you were in?"

"No, and no. I was tempted when I first got out, it seemed like I saw the stuff everywhere—of course I saw it more than when I was there—and it seemed like everything would be easier if I… but no, the answer is no. And since we found Allie I haven't wanted to."

Lucas' answer stayed businesslike and almost emotionless. Sami tried to make her questions follow suit.

"How and when did you get Allie and Johnny here?"

"Philip. I owe him… well, not everything, because I owe Will and—he had people look for them. Allie ran away and lucky for us she ran right to Jack and Jennifer. She was at their house when Philip's people caught up with her. That was in November. We got Johnny about six weeks later, after Allie helped narrow down the search."

"How's Allie dealing with what EJ did to her?"

This time, Lucas' façade cracked, but it was with wonder rather than pain. "It blows my mind how well she's handling everything. She really rolls with the punches, you know? So strong, so resilient. She doesn't let anything that happened stop her. She goes to her counseling sessions, she's doing good at school, she—she's amazing. She was quieter when she first got here, she seemed really sensitive, but I'm seeing that less and less."

"And I don't need to ask whether she has you wrapped around her little finger, because I already know that."

Lucas smirked. "If you think you're so sure."

Sami wasn't convinced. "There's not much I'm sure of, but that's one of the exceptions. How is Johnny dealing with finding out you're his father?"

And then, as unexpectedly as it had come, the happiness was gone.

"He isn't," said Lucas flatly. "Won't admit that it's true."

"How are you dealing with it?"

He sighed. "One day at a time."

"How did you find out?"

"We always knew, didn't we? We had him tested before he was born, and so did Stefano when he kidnapped you, remember? You were pregnant and he was going to surgically remove the twins and use their bodies to—"

"I was there for that part. You don't need to remind me."

"I think I do. I think I needed someone to remind me, because somehow we just took EJ's word for it when he told us Johnny was his."

"The tests are more accurate after babies are born!" Sami protested.

"Tests are never more accurate when DiMeras are around. Nick found—"

"Nick?"

"My cousin Nick. He got into this whole undercover thing to catch someone who was interfering with samples at the lab, and he traced it all the way back to Allie and Johnny. He told me the details but I wasn't paying that much attention. He found out by accident. Even when we found Johnny, we didn't think to have him tested. We tested him against Belle so she could get injunctive custody. If your next question is how so many people could be so stupid for so long, I don't have an answer."

"That wasn't my next question," said Sami softly.

"Well?"

"Does Johnny know that EJ raped me and that's why we thought EJ was his father?"

"He doesn't believe it, but he knows."

"Why did you tell him?"

"I didn't. Allie did."

"Why did you tell Allie?"

"Because I had to tell her that—oh, this is good. EJ had them convinced that they aren't twins. The story was that Johnny was his son by his wife who died, and Allie was his stepdaughter by you. When I told Allie that Johnny was her brother, but that I was her father… well, she has a decent grounding in biology and she knew how unlikely that was, and what you would have had to have done—"

Sami held up her hand. "Stop. I don't need to know that my only daughter was speculating about my sex life." She only spared a second to dwell on the embarrassment. "Wait, Johnny thought I wasn't his mother? Does he still think that?"

"That's probably the one thing he's accepted. He likes the idea of being Allie's twin. I think he must remember you, too. Allie does."

"How much does Allie remember?"

"I don't know. What I know for sure is that she remembers the night you got hurt very clearly."

Sami made a face. "Out of all the things she could remember. Do Allie and Johnny—are they close?"

"They're very close. She's the only one he cares about."

"Does he know that EJ… what EJ did to her?"

"Like everything else. She told him and he accused us of brainwashing her."

"But they—she doesn't mind that he doesn't believe her?"

"I'm not sure how it works. They don't talk about it, like some people don't talk about religion and politics. But she loves him completely, even if he doesn't make it easy. I guess the same is true for him, from his warped perspective."

"Did you just call our son warped?"

"No, and that's number seventeen."

Sami had forgotten to count, and she had no idea if she was really up to seventeen. But she heard the warning: _I'm at the end of my rope with Johnny, and you're in no position to criticize._

"What can I do to make this thing with Johnny easier on both of you?"

Lucas opened his mouth, and then closed it. "That's not a question I expected you to ask."

"Seems like the most important one, though, doesn't it? I mean, it does. You can't count that as nineteen."

"No," Lucas agreed. "Look, if I knew how to get through to Johnny I would have done it by now. But I'm the embodiment of everything he hates, and on top of it I keep him on a short leash because it's the only way to keep him safe."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, give that kid money and internet access and he'd be on his way to a DiMera compound in some country that isn't on the map in two seconds. Can't really stop the internet access because he needs it for school, but I limit it as much as I can."

"He'd leave Allie?"

"I don't know. I know he's hurting—I know how torn up I was when I found out that Bill Horton was my father, and I was a lot older and that did a lot less to change my life. But Johnny is so resourceful and calculating and he's so willing to hurt people to get his way—"

"When you say 'hurt people'—"

"On Christmas Eve Ciara punched him in the face because he told her she was a replacement for Zack—a poor replacement, that's what it was. It wasn't what he said, although that was bad enough. It was the superior, smug way he said it. I see a lot of EJ in him and it terrifies me that we might not be able to get it out." Lucas straightened up and glanced around, as if looking for the source of his words. "And Sami, don't forget what he did to you when you woke up. You'd been comatose for years and had just had experimental brain surgery. He knew exactly how dangerous it was to upset you, and he came in and told you all about the DiMeras changing the paternity records and how he wished they'd stayed changed."

Sami sat bolt upright. "No, Lucas, he didn't. He… he mentioned something else and I asked if he was my son—joking—and then he told me—well, he didn't tell me, he thought I knew."

Lucas sat unmoved.

"You don't believe me."

"I appreciate that it's your instinct to think the best of your son."

"You weren't there. He was scared and upset and his hands were so cold—"

"He wouldn't wait in the waiting room with us. He went out to the parking lot instead. Of course his hands were cold, it was January out there."

"And you just let him? Maybe you wouldn't even let him have gloves because you were afraid he'd pawn them for money to get back to EJ?"

"That's ridiculous! We checked on him. He was fine. He could have walked back into the hospital any time he wanted, just like anyone else."

"He wanted you to come get him!"

"No, he didn't. You're underestimating Johnny. He's not some little wounded bird—"

"He's what? A DiMera?"

"Too many questions. You're over your limit."

"Don't you dare! Lucas, Johnny—"

"Needs you. I know that. But—"

"There are no buts," said Sami firmly.

And her intention to tell Lucas that she loved him, and her plan to find out how he could love her again, evaporated. She'd spent three years in EJ's prison of a London townhouse yearning for Lucas. She had changed during that time, and Lucas had changed, too. Maybe she'd outgrown him. Maybe she only loved the idea of him.

Even her sympathy for Lucas retreated to the back of her heart. Johnny was more important. She'd been the black sheep of her family, the difficult child in a sea of perfect siblings. Johnny wasn't going to feel that way.

For an instant, she thought Lucas was going to walk out on that note, and she didn't care.

Then Lucas said "I need you," and all of her dreams slammed back to the forefront. She could help Johnny and remarry Lucas at the same time. After all, he was Johnny's father.

"You… what?" she whispered breathlessly.

"I need you to help me with Johnny. Allie, too. Your family needs you. So don't get too worked up now, okay? It won't help them."

"Right," she agreed. And telling him she loved him didn't seem to follow very well. So she didn't.

_**TBC**_


	26. Case of the Purloined

**Part 26- Case of the Purloined...**

Despite the ongoing torrent of glares from Johnny and suggestions from Sami that he just wasn't trying hard enough, Lucas found his family life lapsing into something strangely pleasant. Sami's recovery had lifted a weight had been so heavy for so long that Lucas had almost forgotten it was there. Sami might be completely underestimating Johnny, but it was beyond a relief to know that she would be there for the twins, and for Will, and in general.

The house that had seemed too big and empty when Will had deposited him here short months before now burst with life and activity.

One Thursday afternoon, Lucas found himself chopping mushrooms and scallions and garlic in the kitchen. The steady clang of Will lifting weights in the basement (to which all workout equipment had been relegated after the original gym had become Johnny's bedroom) formed an oddly comforting backdrop.

The twins were busy with their homework at the kitchen table. Their project—and Allie had assured him that they were, in fact, supposed to work together—involved writing a story using a list of vocabulary words. Johnny was engrossed enough in his task that he had almost forgotten that Lucas was in the room, and Lucas took great pleasure in listening as the twins' voices tumbled over one another.

The mushrooms and scallions crackled as Lucas threw them into a pan of olive oil; from the corner of his eye, Lucas saw Allie smile.

"The smell of the mushrooms was _tantalizing_," she said.

Johnny shook his head. "The smell of the mushrooms was _tantalizing_, so it wasn't surprising that the _malevolent _man stole them from the little boy."

_"Purloined _them," said Allie. "Instead of stole. Then we'd be using—"

"Three words instead of two," Johnny completed along with her. "But it has to be steak instead of mushrooms. Then it can be a—"

"Purloined sirloin!" Allie completed along with him. "The smell of the steak was _tantalizing_, so it wasn't surprising that the _malevolent _man stole it from the little boy. The police came to investigate the case of the _purloined _sirloin, but the _dejected _boy's memory of the thief was—"

_"Nebulous_!" they chorused.

Lucas dumped freshly cooked pasta into a strainer set in the sink. Steam wafted toward the twins.

"The police officer was _incredulous _when the boy said he thought the thief had cut through the fog with a _rapier_," Johnny continued.

"Even though the crime was _deplorable_, the police officer didn't think that a magic _rapier_—which must have been taken from the sunken Spanish _galleon_—would have been needed to commit it."

Lucas had never been so disappointed to hear a phone ring in his life.

"Horton residence," he answered.

"May I speak to Lucas Horton?" The voice was polite and professional, but Lucas' stomach lurched. The speaker had an English accent, and he'd called on the old-fashioned landline that they only used for conversations that demanded security.

"This is he."

"You are the legal guardian of the minor child Allie Horton?"

The twins weren't laughing any more. They were listening to Lucas, and not pretending otherwise.

"Hold on a minute," said Lucas to his intruder. He dumped the pasta into a bowl and the vegetables into the pasta. "Johnny, take this into the dining room, please. I'd give it to Allie, but it's heavy and she might burn herself."

Johnny scowled, but picked up the bowl. Lucas had learned that the only way to get him to do something was to couch the request in terms of how Allie would be hurt if Johnny disobeyed. Johnny knew that he was being manipulated, but his affection for Allie was apparently stronger than his disdain for Lucas.

"Allie," Lucas continued. "Salt, pepper, and parmesan on the counter. Toss them with the pasta."

"How much?" asked Allie. Her eyes were fixed on the phone. She was obviously burning with curiosity; Lucas wondered if she had heard her name.

"Use your judgment," Lucas told her. He prayed—not for the first time—that her judgment was better than her mother's. But something told him that the call was going to ruin his appetite anyway. He might not notice if Allie emptied a whole shaker full of salt onto the pasta.

Allie walked after Johnny as slowly as she possibly could.

When she was gone, Lucas picked up the phone again. "Sorry about that. If we're going to discuss Allie, I don't want her to be in the room."

"Understandable. I expect the news I'm to deliver you will come as a great shock. First, my name is Chief Inspector Robert Smyth of the Metropolitan Police Service. Two days ago, my men arrested Mr. Elvis Aaron DiMera, Junior, alias E.J. Wells, alias E.J. Banks, alias E.J. Crumb. We have too many outstanding warrants and extradition orders to sort through, but what takes precedence is an accusation that he held an underage girl against her will and molested her. These situations are expedited, and if your daughter were willing to testify—"

"That's a very big if," Lucas warned.

"Understandable," repeated Chief Inspector Robert Smyth of the Metropolitan Police Service. And he very politely proceeded to explain that Allie's testimony was the only thing that would ensure that EJ remained behind bars while the technicalities that came with too many warrants and too many conflicting claims and too many bribed officials were sorted out. It had happened in the past that a man who raped a thirteen-year-old girl was considered a criminal in one country, but given a hero's refuge in another. It would be to the benefit of the MPS and to the benefit of Lucas and Allie if EJ were tried and convicted before that could happen.

Somewhere along the line, Will came upstairs and stood in the doorway, watching his father's face and seeming to take in everything that was going on without hearing a word.

"I'll ask her," said Lucas at last. "And do you have a contact in the Salem PD?"

Lucas was assured that he could check the Chief Inspector's story and credentials with Bo Brady, and hung up the phone.

His eyes locked with Will's.

"We'll discuss it after dinner," Lucas said, pleading for the chance to have one more hour of normalcy. Damn it, Allie was happy and laughing! Johnny was practically tolerating him!

"Are we all going to want to throw up dinner if we eat before we hear about this?"

Lucas groaned. "Good point."

Together, Lucas and Will joined the twins in the oddly formal dining room, so out of sync with the rest of the house and never used until the twins had gotten into the habit of monopolizing the kitchen table with their laptops and books.

Allie and Will looked expectantly at Lucas.

Johnny, with a nonchalance that fooled no one, began eating his dinner. He didn't cringe, Lucas noted numbly, so Allie must have been reasonable with the salt.

"You should all know," Lucas began, and then stopped. His voice was echoing in his own head.

"We should all know…" Will repeated expectantly.

"That EJ DiMera was arrested two days ago."

Lucas saw Johnny's flinch only because he was watching him carefully. Otherwise, Johnny showed admirable self-control; he continued to eat, giving no sign that Lucas' news had anything to do with him.

If that was how Johnny was going to play it, this might not be so bad.

"Allie."

Allie couldn't hide her feelings the way Johnny could. Her round face was full of apprehension, anger, confusion, and determination as she stared back at Lucas.

"You shouldn't feel any pressure to do this. It's entirely up to you. But they want you to testify against EJ. They want you to go to England and tell the judge what EJ did to you."

"No." Allie shook her head vehemently. "He's done all kinds of stuff to all kinds of people. Aren't they testifying? Isn't that enough?"

Lucas deflated the tiniest bit. He had thought that he was hoping that Allie would refuse, and that they could go about their life without interruption. But when Allie's refusal became a reality, a wave of horror washed over him. EJ had gotten away with murder, rape, kidnapping, and torture. And he was going to continue to get away with it. His path was clear. He would arrange to be extradited to a country that would free him. The extradition couldn't be blocked without the special circumstances of the most loathed crime of all… sexual assault of a minor.

He'd heard the truism all his life, in prison and out of it: even murderers think child molesters are scum.

"Honestly, Allie, I'm not sure that the other victims are going to be able to testify."

"Dr. Medy says I'm not supposed to refer to myself as a victim."

Lucas swallowed a sigh. She was right, of course, but that didn't make this easier. "Other survivors, then."

"Why can't they?"

"Because there are outstanding warrants for EJ's arrest all over the world. He's going to try to get one of those warrants to be given priority, and once he's in another country the charges will be dropped and he'll disappear. The crime that supersedes the others—the one that makes it impossible for him to bribe enough people—"

"All right, stop!" Allie snapped. Every inch of her body was shaking. The room was silent as Lucas, Will, and Johnny watched the wheels turning behind Allie's wide, blue eyes. "When would I have to go?" Allie asked at last.

"Right away."

"How long?"

"A few days. Maybe a few weeks."

"Is it open to the public?"

"No. You testify behind a screen and your name isn't released."

"But people here—they know that Johnny is my brother and DiMera is his last name—if this is international news, they'll figure out—"

Lucas sighed, remembering the tabloid headlines that had called Sami _Salem's Own Lorena Bobbitt_. Allie was right. The law had never brought a DiMera to justice. Allie's pain would be for nothing, just like the pain of three other generations of her family. "You're right. Your name will probably get out. And I think you made a good decision not to do this. We all need to move forward—"

"No," Allie snarled, and had never looked more like Sami. "I'll testify. Oh, I'll testify. Tell them not bother with the screen. Tell them to bring in the cameras and post everything on YouTube. You get the plane tickets." She shoved her untouched meal to the middle of the table. "I'll go pack."

"No, you won't," said Johnny in a low, hard-edged voice. He'd finally pushed his food away, too. "You are not going to do this, Alicia."

"Don't call me that!" Allie turned to look at Lucas and Will. "That's what _he _called us, Giovanni and Alicia. Johnny and Allie weren't sophisticated enough. Pretty rich coming from someone named Elvis."

"Father called you that affectionately because he loved you, he raised you as his own—"

"I really hope you don't think he'd do to his own what he did to me—"

"HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!" Johnny roared. "THESE PEOPLE BRAINWASHED YOU INTO THINKING—"

"No one brainwashed me! He locked me up like an animal when you went off to school. He put his hands on my breasts, he kissed me, he had an erection. If Theo Carver hadn't come snooping around, he would have raped me." Johnny grimaced. "You can hear it now or you can hear it later when I testify."

"I'm not listening now and I certainly won't listen then. The only way I'll be at that trial is if they let me testify that you're a crazy liar who wants to slander a man who never did anything but love you and take care of you. Are you going to tell the judge about how he used to push us on the swings for hours? About the pastries he used to let us eat in bed on Sunday morning? About bringing in the best tutors for us so we could get the best education?"

"If the judge asks, I'll tell him all of that. But I'll tell him that EJ DiMera is a child molester, and I'll tell him that whether my twin brother wants to support me or not!"

With that, Allie stomped from the room, not replying when Johnny called after her, "It'll be _not_!" Lucas could hear her drawers and doors opening and closing.

Johnny started to follow Allie, but Will and Lucas grabbed him by his slender shoulders and sat him back in his seat. "You don't have to come to England, but you don't get to intimidate the witness any more," Lucas told him.

"Are you going to throw me out?" asked Johnny, almost hopefully. "I'm sure Father has made alternate arrangements. I'd be happy to go back to Eton."

"You're going back to Shawn and Belle's until your brother and sister and I come home." Lucas turned his attention to Will. "Can you get a hold of Shawn and Belle and set that up? Hold down the fort with the twins?"

"Where're you going?" Will asked by way of assent.

"Someone has to tell your mother what's going on, and I don't think I should tell her over the phone. Who knows what she'll do?"

* * *

Lucas heard Sami's shouts as soon as he stepped off the elevator in the rehab area of the hospital. It seemed that someone had beaten him to telling her the news. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or irritated.

"What do you mean, they want Allie to testify? There is no way my daughter is doing that, no way. I testified against a man who raped me when I was just a few years older than Allie, and—why can't I testify against him instead? I'll tell the judge I saw EJ with his hand between her legs when she was three years old. I'll tell him EJ wouldn't let us leave. I'll tell him—"

"You won't tell him anything, Sami," Bo responded just as Lucas opened the door and let himself in. "You have no credibility. You went to England with him willingly. You took the twins along willingly. You thought you had a child with him, and because you never pressed charges for rape, his attorney will make you out to be a spurned ex-lover. And you aren't well enough to travel, anyway."

Sami sneered at Bo, and addressed Lucas instead. "You aren't going to let her testify, are you?" she asked, and her vulnerability made Lucas' heart constrict.

"I don't think wild horses could stop her, Sami. She wants to do this."

"You already asked her?" Bo asked. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure I asked her." Bo made a face. "Yes, I'm sure she wants to testify. I've never seen her like this. She was packing for the trip when I left."

"Teenage girls change their minds."

"Allie follows through." Not wanting to discuss it with Bo further, Lucas changed the subject. "You do know this Chief Inspector Smyth person who called me? He's legit?"

"Yeah, we've been working together since this thing with EJ Junior heated up again. Ever since Sami gave us her information. That's why they were able to track him down. He was at one of the places she told us about."

"So you'll take my information, but you won't let me testify against a man who stole thirteen years of my life? Of Lucas' life? Of our children's lives?"

"It's out of my hands, Sami," said Bo. "You know Lucas will take good care of Allie. She'll be back before you know it."

"You might be able to keep me from testifying, but there is no way you can keep me here while my daughter is going through that. No way. I will break out of this hospital and hitchhike to England if I have to."

Lucas heard the truth in her words, just as he'd heard the truth in Allie's when she'd vowed to take part in the trial. Everything Allie was, she'd come by honestly.

"I'll buy an extra plane ticket," he said.

_**TBC**_


	27. Prelude to a Trial

**Part 27- Prelude to a Trial**

On the evening of her family's flight to London, Sami checked herself out of the hospital against her doctors' advice. The physical therapy had been very effective; she could walk and talk and take care of herself, even if her mobility and strength weren't exactly what she would have preferred. The hospital couldn't keep her there without her permission, and she would have left with or without consent in any case. She'd broken out of prison while she was on death row; she could certainly handle breaking out of University Hospital's rehabilitation center.

Not that anyone trusted her to handle anything anymore.

Uncle Bo's words had cut her to the quick. _You have no credibility. You handed your only daughter over to a sex offender. If the judge sees you, he'll assume that Allie wanted to be raped, just like her mother._

And of course, Lucas and Will had been feeding her platitudes ever since she'd returned to Salem. _Allie's doing fine without you. Why would Allie need her mother when she's testifying against the man who held her prisoner and molested her?_

The only one who ever wanted to tell her the unvarnished truth (at least as he saw it) was Johnny, and Lucas and Will seemed to be keeping Johnny at arm's length as if he were some sort of demon seed.

But her concerns for Johnny had to take a back seat for now. It was Allie who was about to be put on trial—and there could be no doubting that the subject of the trial would be Allie, not EJ. Rapists weren't put on trial; their victims were. Sami had learned that lesson at the hands of Alan Harris. That was one of many reasons she had never pressed charges against EJ.

_You thought you had a child with EJ, and because you never pressed charges for rape, his attorney would make you out to be a spurned ex-lover._

She would have pressed charges if she could have foreseen that her other option was to shove the burden onto her sweet, sensitive daughter.

But she had never been able to foresee how her actions would hurt her children. She had meant to do better for her twins than she had done for Will. Will had spent most of his childhood caught between two parents who put his well-being behind their desire to hurt each other. She had promised the twins, since the day she'd known she was pregnant, that she would always put them first. So when EJ had told her that the only way to keep her family safe was to sacrifice her own happiness and her marriage to Lucas, she'd done it. She'd put her children first. Then, when EJ had told her that the only way to protect Johnny was to help his father turn over a new leaf, and help sort out the citizenship concerns, well, she'd done that too. She'd put Johnny first. She'd wanted to believe that Johnny's father wasn't someone who would…  
_  
"I want you, Samantha. I want you to have sex with me."_

"You are out of your mind if you think for one second that I would— If you touch me, I swear to God—"

"Yes, come on. Threaten. Spell out the depths of my punishment. Will that be anguish? Incredible pain?"

"This is turning you on?"

"Would you rather savor your virtue and condemn Lucas to die?"

"So, you're gonna blackmail me. Rape me. That's how you like it."

"Are you trying to get me excited again?"

"I'll do it. I'll do it. You are only getting my body."

"My dear... that's all I've ever wanted..."

"You've had your revenge. You've scarred me for life. I'll live with it. I'll find a way. But if you do anything to hurt my son or Lucas or me, I will hunt you down and kill you. Do you understand?"

Uncle Bo was right. People would claim that she had wanted it, that she had enjoyed it.

And they would claim the same thing about Allie.

Lucas had to know that. It shocked her that Lucas was allowing Allie to testify. Lucas had always been so protective of his children, especially his only daughter. But he was letting her walk into a minefield.

Not having any material possessions to bring even if she'd wanted to, Sami went through airport security easily. She smiled wryly as she informed the ticket agent that she had only the handbag she carried.

_No baggage. Right._

She slipped into the ladies' room to make certain her wig was on correctly. Her hair had begun to grow back, but it wasn't quite long enough for extensions. Sami had never felt comfortable with short hair. She'd worn it long even as a tiny girl.

The wig fell to just below her shoulders. Where her own hair was solidly blonde, the wig had the slightest reddish tint. It wasn't the fiery red of Joy Wesley or the stately red of her Grandma Caroline. Instead, it was almost the exact shade Sami's own hair had been 20 years ago on an ill-fated trip to Italy.

She spared a tiny smile for Brandon Walker and wondered where he was. Maybe she would look him up when the twins were doing better. He deserved another thank you for being one of the good men in a life too filled with bad ones.

Her smile, she noticed, masked many of the flaws that her appearance had developed over the course of her long sleep. Even to her critical eye, she was almost pretty again.

Deciding that her self-esteem wouldn't get any higher, she turned on her heel and prepared to face her ex-husband and their children.

She looked for them all around the boarding gate, and in the shops and at the windows. _Maybe Allie changed her mind and they forgot to tell me_, she thought hopefully. The second the thought entered her head, she saw Lucas.

Her heart began to pound, and her lips began to ache for a kiss, a split second before her conscious mind was able to remind her libido that she and Lucas had been divorced for a very long time.

But he was wearing blue. She loved him in blue.

And he had his arm possessively draped over the back of Allie's chair. The simple gesture made him look even better. It reminded her of the way he'd always done that with her. It reminded her that if Allie was testifying, Allie really had made that choice on her own, because Lucas would never have pushed her to hurt herself.

Allie looked up from her magazine and pointed at Sami.

* * *

Allie looked up at her magazine and pointed at Sami. "There's Mom."

Agony ripped through Lucas when he saw the ghost.

He had known Sami was coming; he had emailed her a boarding pass himself. But he hadn't expected Sami to look so much like… Sami. She was wearing a wig that transformed her appearance and gave him a sharp, painful desire to grab her and kiss her.

He wasn't sure why, but he was forcibly reminded of a cliff in Italy twenty years before. Sami lay unconscious on the ground.

"_Sami, please don't die on me. Sami. My God, she's not breathing. Sami, wake up. Sami, just wake up. I'm sorry. Sami, please wake up. Sami? Sami, wake up! Wake up, Sami! Will, Sami, think about Will. Please, Sami, wake up! Wake up. Come on. Come on. No way, Sami, I'm not gonna let you die. No way!"_

He leaned over her and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He expected it to be clinical, nothing more than a technique used to save a life. But when his lips touched hers, he remembered the day they had created Will…

"Sami, listen to me. You're a caring, beautiful girl. Someday, some guy's gonna be real happy to go out with you."

"Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Lucas."

"Sami, I wouldn't lie about something so important. Don't you know how much I care about you?"

"Dad?" Allie interrupted his thoughts, and he ripped himself away gratefully. It was strange how he could get caught up in thinking about something that happened a million years ago for no reason. "You're spacing out."

"I was just thinking how good your mother looks."

Allie raised her eyebrows, and a mischievous glint flickered in her eye.

"I mean," Lucas clarified, "those doctors and physical therapists, they really did right by her, didn't they? Last month she never would have been able to come with us."

Allie stifled a giggle. "Yes, the doctors did a very good job," she agreed, and went to hug her mother. "Congratulations on getting out of the hospital," Allie whispered in Sami's ear.

Sami stepped back and admired her beautiful daughter. "Thank you. I wish it was for some other reason."

"_I_ don't," said Allie firmly. "He'll go to jail, this will be over, and we can all forget him."

Sami winced. She wondered how a girl who had led the life Allie had could possibly be such an incurable optimist. But then, her own childhood had been less than ideal, and Carrie had managed to convince her that if she only testified against Alan Harris…

It would never be over, and Allie would never get to forget.

But Sami couldn't say that to Allie. So instead, she asked if Allie liked to fly.

"I don't really know," said Allie thoughtfully. "This is kind of my first time."

"What do you mean? I guess you don't remember flying to England when you were a baby, but you got back to Salem on a plane, didn't you?"

Allie shook her head. "They chloroformed me," she said matter-of-factly. "I woke up toward the end of the flight, but I was still really groggy—"

"Chloroform?" Sami demanded of Lucas.

Lucas held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't know about that, and neither did Philip. What happened was—"

Allie didn't get to hear Lucas' explanation, though, because Will grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her over to one of the large windows overlooking the runways.

"What?" she protested. She had never seen her parents together—not that she could remember, at least—and she was more than a little interested.

"Look," Will pointed. "There's our plane. See them loading your pink suitcase?"

"You brought me over here to look at my suitcase?"

Will sighed. "No. But act like you care."

"Why?"

Will sighed again. "I saw the look on your face when Dad said that Mom looks good."

"She _does _look good. The wig changes everything—well, I think it's how the wig makes her feel, more than that having hair makes her look different."

"Very perceptive," said Will, genuinely impressed. "I agree with you. But that other thing you noticed—that Dad wasn't talking about how good the hospital's P.T. department is—you can't go down that road, Allie."

Allie gave up any pretense of not knowing what Will meant. "But I think he likes her! And I think she likes him! And they only got divorced because EJ threatened her, right? Fine, I'm about to get rid of EJ. There's no reason they can't get back together, and then we can be a real family! I appreciate everything you've done for me and Johnny, but wouldn't you rather be the brother, not the… other father? I mean, wouldn't you want us to be a real family, like we used to be when Johnny and I were born?"

"I remember when I was your age, and I told Mom I wanted us to be a real family. She told me to get over it, and that I had a real family whether my parents were together or not."

Allie scowled.

"Yeah, and then I looked at her like you're looking at me. And I tried every trick in the book to get them together."

"Like what?"

"I'm not going to give you any ideas."

Allie lowered her eyes, and seemed to crumble inwardly beneath the weight of the backpack she wore. "I'm sorry. I just wish I knew more about what it was like when they were together, when you were a kid. I only know that I was born and bad stuff started happening."

Will seethed. Allie had handled every horrible thing thrown at her with such a sweet, sunny disposition that it was easy to forget that she was also capable of running away from the only home she remembered, willing to stand up to the twin she adored, and well-versed in manipulation.

"Don't think I'm buying that. I was a master at that before you were a twinkle in Mom and Dad's eye. 'Oh, Mom, I know I was a mistake and that's why you and Dad fight over me.'"

Allie stayed silent.

"Practically as soon as I could talk, I was making up stuff about how I couldn't sleep unless they both tucked me in. Then I wouldn't go to sleep so they'd have to stay there longer—but I'd act like I was pretending to sleep and doing a lousy job of it so they wouldn't catch on. I'd tell Mom how much I loved Dad. I'd tell Dad how much I loved Mom. I'd tell Dad about Mom's boyfriends and try to make him jealous. I'd tell Mom about Dad's girlfriends and try to make her jealous. Sometimes I just tried to reason with them. Once we went on a camping trip and I put a snake in Mom's sleeping bag so she'd share with Dad. I planned family movie nights. I left my homework to the last minute so they'd both help me together. But you know what the important thing to remember is?"

"What?"

"None of it worked. We finally got to the wedding day—I remember this like it was last night—and I was walking out of my room in my tux. I asked Dad to help me with my tie, and he said I didn't need it because the wedding was off."

"But they did get married, didn't they?"

Will shrugged. "A couple of years later. A couple of tries later. When it finally went through I walked out of the reception before it was over because I'd seen it too many times and I was sure they were breaking up. But that time it took six months, and we were never really happy. All that effort—fifteen years of work and it—it ended with Mom unconscious and Dad in prison. You can't do this, Allie. It will eat you from the inside out. It doesn't matter how hard you try or how right it seems. Your everything won't be enough. You'll end up sad and frustrated feeling like you wasted half your life. You've lost too much already. I wouldn't like to see you lose anything else trying to force two people together when they weren't meant to be."

"They didn't break up because they wanted to."

"There was always something. EJ, Grandma Kate, Mom dressing up as a man and pushing drugs."

"Mom—"

"Never mind."

"Mom!" Allie shouted. "Did you ever dress up as a man and push drugs?"

Sami and Lucas joined Will and Allie at the window. "You thought this was a good time to tell her that story, Bud?" asked Lucas coolly as he wrapped an arm around Allie. Will felt about five years old.

"It just came up," Will said lamely.

"Don't worry about it," said Sami to Will, giving his arm a squeeze.

"So it's true?" said Allie to Lucas.

"It's not like it sounds," said Lucas.

"It was a long time ago," added Sami.

"First class passengers are welcome aboard flight 1776 to London," said the public address system.

Lucas took Allie's hand and led her to the gate. Sami took Will's arm and followed.

* * *

The flight lasted ten hours, and Allie spent most of them longing for the bliss of chloroformed unconsciousness. The cabin was too dark to do anything but sit and think about EJ's lips on her mouth; and what it would be like when everyone in the world knew what had happened; and what EJ might do if the judge decided not to keep him in prison; and whether Johnny was ever going to forgive her; and why Will didn't want her to have a real family; and whether Will might be right about Sami and Lucas not wanting to be together; and whether Sami might really want EJ they way EJ had wanted her.

Allie was starving when they landed in London, but as soon as Lucas bought her the best Indian food she had smelled in months, she was unable to eat. Sami and Will had gone to the next shop to buy boring sandwiches, and they offered to share with Allie, but she couldn't eat those either.

She was tired for what remained of the day, and was barely able to pay attention when the harried, over-excited prosecutor sat her down to practice answering questions about her life with EJ.

But when it was time to sleep again, she spent another night hearing her thoughts chase themselves in circles. Sami was fast asleep in the next bed; the trip had been more exertion than she was used to. Allie thought briefly of going to the next room to see Lucas and Will—she could hear the television and knew they were awake—but she didn't know what she would say to them.

She was grateful when it was time to get up, ignore most of her breakfast, and get dressed for court.

Her skirt was flowered and her blouse was pink. She thought that they made her look young and innocent. Her hair, though, defied all of her efforts to braid it. She could just imagine the judge's decision:

_The alleged victim, who cannot be named, is so ugly that no man would ever molest her. All charges against EJ DiMera will be dropped._

She imagined EJ coming toward her with a menacing look on his face and a gun in his hand.

She imagined dying without ever having done anything with her life.

She imagined EJ renewing the DiMera-Brady feud by torturing Claire and Ciara.

She imagined walking into a classroom filled with boys and girls who giggled at her and called her a delusional slut behind her back.

She imagined her mother comatose once more, and her father back in prison, and both of them blaming her.

She imagined what it would be like to be disowned by both Will and Johnny.

She imagined living alone, ostracized, to a great old age.

Her hair slipped through her fingers for the seventh time.

"Mom?" she asked.

Sami couldn't have been at her side more quickly.

"I can't do this."

_**TBC**_


	28. Deja Vu

**Part 28- Deja Vu**

Sami's heart ripped itself into shreds.

In truth, she didn't want Allie to testify. She thought that Allie's sacrifice would be for nothing; she had spent her whole life watching the DiMeras get away with one crime after another. EJ hadn't been punished for torturing and brainwashing Uncle Steve; for shooting John, stealing his kidney, and having him run over; for trying to murder Shawn-Douglas and Uncle Bo; for trying to murder Lucas; for beating Patrick Lockhart to a pulp; for killing a cop by the name of Eve; for the problems at the fertility clinic that had resulted in Tyler being given up for adoption; for causing a car crash that could have killed Stephanie and Max; for… she had sworn that she would make him miserable when he raped her and blackmailed her into marriage, but she hadn't been able to exact revenge on him for that, either.

How could Allie be expected to succeed where John and Marlena and Belle and Shawn and Steve and Kayla and Bo and Hope and Max and Stephanie and Lucas and Sami had all failed?

She couldn't.

But that didn't mean that Allie's anguish at giving up her quest couldn't become Sami's own.

"It's all right, Baby Girl," Sami said, kneeling beside her daughter. "We'll call the prosecutor and tell her you've changed your mind. She knew this was a possibility—"

_"No!"_ screeched Allie so angrily that she sounded more animal than human.

"No, what?" asked Sami. She caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and was amazed, not for the first time, at their resemblance. She remembered being a teenager and dragging her own mother in front of a similar mirror. (_"Look at you! Just look at you!"_) At the time, Marlena's protestations that a mother felt a daughter's pain and confusion as acutely as her own had left Sami thinking that that was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

Well, she had been wrong before. What was one more time?

Allie leapt to her feet and threw her hairbrush at the mirror. Sami winced, waiting for the shattering of glass and seven years' bad luck (though it might be an improvement if her family's collective luck was merely "bad"). But the brush bounced off of the mirror without doing any damage.

"Why did you throw your brush?" asked Sami.

Allie's wide blue eyes were full of unshed tears, but she blinked them back. "I can't braid my hair," she said, the way most people said "my father just died."

"Oh." Sami pointed at the chair, and Allie sat down. "That, we can fix." Sami ran her hands through Allie's glorious blonde hair, then worked the brush and the comb through it.

Allie leaned into her mother's hands and her mind went blank with relief. She savored the sensation of letting someone else take one of her problems away. She savored the sensation of having a mother. Nothing had ever felt so good.

EJ had liked to touch her hair. When he had done it, it was an invasion. When Sami did it, the experience was something else entirely. It was strange that the very same gesture, coming from a different person with a different intention, could be wonderful instead of horrible.

"How do we want it braided?" asked Sami after stroking Allie's hair a final time.

Allie gestured vaguely. "French pigtails. Like Claire does."

Sami smiled. Of course, when a girl was thirteen, the best person to emulate was her fifteen-year-old cousin (in the absence of an older sister, of course). "I can handle that," she told Allie, and began her work. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she hadn't seen Claire in person since Claire had been toddling around her apartment stealing the toys the infant Johnny and Allie were too young to enjoy anyway.

"Is this how Claire does it?" she asked when one side of Allie's face was framed by a braid?

Allie languidly opened her eyes; Sami was flattered that she'd shut them. "That's right," she confirmed. Her eyelids started to droop closed once more, but then flew open. "Do you think Claire and Ciara will be angry with me for doing this?" she blurted out.

"Did they tell you they would be?" Sami asked, irritated again that she didn't know anything about either of those girls.

"No… they said I should be brave and do what I had to do."

"Then why do you think they might be angry?"

"I don't think they understand. They try. They've heard about the DiMeras and the things they've done. But sometimes it seems like they think DiMeras are monsters in a fairy tale, where the princess does the right thing and she wins. I lived with EJ for thirteen years. I know what he does and what he gets away with and how much power he has. I know that if—if this doesn't work out, and he wants to hurt me, he'll do it by hurting the people I care about, like with you. He'd never do anything to Johnny, but Claire and Ciara… he could… well, for one thing, they're both prettier than I am."

Sami felt her knees go weak, and she fought to keep herself from sinking to the floor. She had underestimated Allie. The things Allie thought her cousins didn't understand were the same things Sami had thought Allie didn't understand. But Allie knew perfectly well what she was risking, and had decided to risk it anyway.

"I don't know Claire and Ciara," Sami said at last. "I wish I did. And I can't wait to meet them again. But I know their parents. Claire and Ciara might be sheltered, but Bo and Hope and Shawn and Belle—they know exactly what EJ can do. They'll do everything to protect their daughters. They know that their daughters have always been at risk because their last name is Brady. And they've taught their daughters to stand by their friends and stand up for what they believe in. Don't you think?"

"Probably." Allie nodded, but she still seemed uncertain.

Sami held onto a half-completed braid with one hand and pushed Allie's cell phone toward her with the other. "Why don't you text them? It's the middle of the night there, but when they wake up and text you back, you'll feel better."

Allie turned the phone over her hand, considering, when it sprang to life. Sami glanced over her daughter's shoulder and read _Claire Brady calling_, complete with a picture of Claire striking a pose and laughing.

"Answer," Sami prompted, pinning Allie's hair out of the way and stepping back to give Allie privacy. But Allie grabbed Sami's hand and wouldn't let her leave, even as she accepted Claire's call.

"Claire?" asked Allie hesitantly.

"And Ciara!" shouted a second voice over Claire's cheerful "hi, Allie!"

"Be quiet," Claire hissed at Ciara. "We're sleeping, remember?"

"Hypocrites. None of them are asleep either. Oh, but they're _adults _and they don't have _school_," Ciara sneered.

"What's going on?" Allie asked. "Isn't it, like, two in the morning in Salem? Where are you?"

"We're home," said Claire.

"Claire's home," modified Ciara.

"Grandma Hope brought Ciara over for a sleepover, but she didn't leave. She and Mom and Grandma Marlena have been downstairs drinking coffee all night."

"They've been drinking more than coffee. Except when they come upstairs to yell at us that it's a school night and we should be in bed. Never mind that they called Aunt Kayla over a few hours ago."

"They did? You didn't tell me that!"

"Yes I did. I heard her voice when I went to the bathroom, I told you that!"

"No, you didn't, I would have remembered—"

"Guys?" Allie injected softly, and Claire and Ciara's bickering ended abruptly. "What is everyone doing over there in the middle of the night?"

There was a long pause.

Then Ciara addressed Allie as if Allie were being very, very stupid. "Well, it wasn't as if anyone was going to sleep, knowing what you're about to do. We're refreshing the news websites every five minutes to see what they're saying about the trial. They're doing that downstairs, too—they took away our laptops, but they forgot Claire's phone."

"And we wanted to call you before you went in there. To tell you we love you," said Claire.

"To tell you we're with you. To tell you to kick that murdering, nasty, cheating, perverted—"

"Kidney stealing, don't forget kidney stealing, my Grandpa John still walks with a limp—"

"Raping, brainwashing—"

"GIRLS!" Four thousand miles from Claire's bedroom, Sami and Allie both winced at the sound of a door slamming open and Hope's voice. "Give me the phone."

"Love you, Allie," said Ciara as she handed the phone to her mother.

"You're talking to Allie?" asked Hope in a strange voice.

"They're talking to Allie?" asked another voice, and Sami and Allie both recognized it as Marlena's.

"Allie?" Hope and Marlena both asked the phone.

Allie, wide-eyed and not wanting to get her cousins in trouble, stayed silent.

"Allie and I are here," Sami answered instead.

"Sami! You take good care of your brave girl!"

"That's what I'm planning on doing," Sami told Marlena. In the background, she could hear Hope calling for Kayla and Belle.

"We're all thinking of you, Allie! Go get him!" Kayla shouted from somewhere in the background.

"Stay strong, Allie!"

"You too, Sami! Remember what a great daughter you have!"

"I _never _forget what a great daughter I have," Sami told them. "But maybe the rest of you should give Ciara and Claire a little credit and let them join the party downstairs? It was a great idea for them to call Allie. I think it helped Allie a lot."

"It did. Thank you," said Allie, but Sami doubted her words were heard on the other side of the ocean, where Claire and Ciara were shouting that Sami was their absolute most favorite relative regardless of whether they'd ever met her.

"You may have a point," admitted Hope.

Ciara and Claire's clapping sounded suspiciously sarcastic and made Allie laugh. Sami thrilled at the sound, but was all too aware of the minutes ticking down. Soon a car would come to take them to the trial. She ended the conversation, finished Allie's hair, and opened the door that separated the room she shared with Allie from the room Lucas shared with Will before Lucas and Will began pounding on it.

The car had no distinctive markings save its tinted windows, and Lucas, Sami, Will, and Allie rode to the courthouse in virtual silence. At first, Sami told Lucas and Will about some of the things their family in Salem had said, in the hopes that it would distract Allie, but Allie ignored the forced chatter and eventually Sami fell silent.

Allie was greeted by the prosecutor who had prepared her the day before and was rushed off to sequestration. Sami, Lucas, and Will were pointed toward a staircase that led to a balcony that would allow them to witness Allie's testimony in private.

Will, Lucas, and Sami stared at each other, all fighting the urge to chase Allie down the hallway and drag her back.

"We should go," said Will at last. "We don't want anyone to see us. We have to help keep Allie anonymous as long as we can."

"Right, as usual," said Lucas, and he clapped Will on the shoulder and pushed him toward the stairs.

As soon as they reached their hidden compartment, though, Sami's resolve began to fail her. "We can't let her do this," she told Lucas and Will. "She shouldn't have to—what if she changed her mind? That's it, I'm going to get her right now!"

She even took a step toward the stairs before Lucas and Will grabbed her arms and sat down on the narrow bench with her between them. Sami let herself be out-maneuvered and grabbed Lucas' and Will's hands the way Allie had grabbed hers back in the hotel room.

Their hands were warm and strong and reassuring. But Sami didn't want their reassurance. She wanted them to be able to give it to Allie.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked Lucas after a long moment of feeling guilty for being surrounded by people she loved while Allie was all alone.

Lucas' brow furrowed. "Of course I'm not sure this is a good idea. We aren't going to know until it's over."

"That isn't what I wanted to hear."

Mockery slipped into Lucas' voice. "I'm sorry, Sami. I thought this was about our daughter, not about what you wanted to hear."

"Speaking of this being about our daughter," Sami returned, "Why would you let her do something that you admit might be a bad idea?"

"Because not doing anything could be just as bad! I thought you of all people would understand that!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

On Sami's other side, Will snorted with disgust. That was all Sami needed to hear.

"This is because I divorced you thirteen years ago?"

"Divorced me to marry the man who raped you because you thought he'd keep his word never to hurt your family again if you did. Don't make it sound like _I _was the monster who wouldn't let you go. But my point was that we all knew something bad would happen if you married EJ. You were convinced that something worse would happen if you didn't. And that's where Allie is now. We think something bad might come out of her testimony. But we think something worse might happen if she doesn't. She made her decision and I respect that."

"She's changing her mind. Lucas, she was practically crying over her—"

Lucas shook his head emphatically. "Allie never cries. When we first met her, Will and I were a mess, but she wasn't." Will tried to wrench his hand out of Sami's grasp, but Sami refused to let go. Lucas glanced at Will across Sami. "Come on, Bud, you know you were a mess. Nothing wrong with that."

"Not important!" Sami interrupted before Will could respond. "I mean, of course there's nothing wrong with a man crying, Will, but you're a wonderful man either way."

"Gee, thanks," said Will with heavy sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means stop acting like Dad—and Allie and I—made the wrong decision and you're the only one who knows what's best for Allie, when you're the one who brought us here when we begged you not to. You just had to marry EJ, when there was no chance that was going to work out, no matter what it did to us. At least when Allie tries to save the world by herself, she has a plan that, you know, isn't insane."

"Will!" snapped Lucas.

"No, let him talk," Sami protested. "I deserve it. But Will," she added warningly, "You should know that I want to feel awful right now, so if you start telling me about how much I hurt you and your father and Allie, you're giving me what I want."

Will glared, then slumped back in his seat.

Lucas rolled his eyes.

Sami sighed and leaned forward, willing her daughter to survive her quest and come back to them.

But they were still holding hands when the "minor child who cannot be named" was called to the witness stand.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy for Allie to answer the prosecutor's questions. She had answered them in practice the day before. She had answered them for Dr. Medy in the snug little office at University Hospital.

At first, she thought that she was calm because she believed that she had made the right decision when she agreed to testify. EJ would find a way to hurt her family whether she told a judge what had happened or not. After all, everything was supposed to stop when he married Sami. But Sami's sacrifice hadn't been enough. No Brady's sacrifice had ever been enough for the DiMeras. They'd held her Grandma Marlena captive. They'd held Sami captive. They'd held Allie captive. Allie imagined that if one day she had a daughter—a daughter who looked like her and Sami and Aunt Belle and Grandma Marlena—the DiMeras would want to come for her, too.

It was hard to worry about her classmates making fun of her when she could worry about Claire being thrown in a dungeon and Ciara being kidnapped and forced to steal artwork and all the pain being pushed forward onto their own daughters who hadn't even been born yet.

Then she thought that she might be calm because she was so nervous that her body was able to answer the familiar questions with no input from her mind.

"He pinned my arms. I had bruises here and here—my upper arms, between my elbow and my shoulder. He pushed his body against me. I thought—I thought he was carrying a gun, and then I remembered those jokes—'is that a whatever in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?'—and I figured out, I didn't really figure out until it was over, it happened so fast—I figured out what it was. But he kissed me, on the lips, he used his tongue to get my tongue out of the way. It was hot and it hurt, not as much as my arms hurt, but I thought he was going to suffocate me or break my teeth or that I would throw up. His tongue was down my throat, but when he pulled back and there was… spit all over my face, that was almost worse."

The questions EJ's lawyers asked her were supposed to be harder, but they turned out to be easier. Yes, she remembered EJ pushing her on a swing and letting her eat pastries in bed and buying her as many DVDs as she liked. Yes, she was doing well in school—she was ahead of her classmates in all the subjects but American history, and EJ's tutors had taught her everything she needed and more.

The last exchange was puzzling, and unexpected, but she still knew what to say.

"You said that you were afraid of EJ, correct? You said that you believed that he was all powerful, able to find you anywhere you went, able to hurt you?" asked the defense attorney.

"That's correct."

"Then why would you testify against him? Aren't you afraid that that will make him angry, and make him want to hurt you again?"

"I'm very afraid of him," she said, and she flushed. Her mind had fallen, quite unexpectedly, back into her body. "But I'm afraid of him whether I make him angry or not. I never did anything to deserve what he did to me. My mother never did anything to deserve what he did to her. It's because I'm afraid that he'll hurt someone else that I'm here. I don't believe for a second that I'm going to be the 'minor child who cannot be named' by the end of the day. I know that people will find how who I am, and people I've never met will be calling me a liar, saying I'm delusional, saying I wanted it. But if he hurts my cousins, or my brothers, or anyone in my family—if he hurts anyone—because I didn't try to convince the judge to keep him in prison—it would be wrong for me to do that."

Just when her body started to shake, and she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to answer the next question, she was told that she could step down if she remembered not to discuss her testimony with anyone until the proceeding was over, because she might be recalled.

She stumbled off the witness stand and into the back hallway, where someone she couldn't see properly guided her down toward the same car that had taken her from the hotel that morning.

Then she was in the car in Sami's arms. Sami was singing. Allie had forgotten the lullaby, but now she remembered:  
_  
Rock-a-bye Allie,  
Sent from above  
God's little angel  
Mom's little love  
Now that you're with me  
Life's been so sweet  
Since God's dearest angel  
Made it complete._

**_TBC_**


	29. By Any Other Name

**Part 29- By Any Other Name**

Lucas watched his daughter trembling in his wife's—no, ex wife's, how could he possibly make that mistake?—arms, and the anger returned.

The anger had never really gone away. He had suppressed it, set it aside, and ignored it. He had listened when Philip had told him that it wouldn't help anyone if Lucas got himself arrested again.

But watching as Allie-who-doesn't-cry cried was his undoing. He had never been able to stand it when Sami cried. Unthinkably, it was even worse with Allie.

Allie's testimony was lodged in his brain:

_If he hurts anyone—because I didn't try to convince the judge to keep him in prison—it would be wrong for me to do that. _

He'd tried to keep EJ from hurting anyone else when he'd shot him thirteen years before. He had messed that up royally.

He'd wanted to finish the job when Allie told him what EJ had done to her. But more pressing, closer concerns—principally his desire to get Allie help without disrupting her life further— had taken priority.

But now Allie had her mother and her twin back. Now EJ was within striking distance. Now was the time to end the cycle of pain before it hit Will, or Allie, or Johnny again.

Lucas had always believed in planning before taking action. Sometimes his plans had been long-term and complex: _first Carrie will dump Austin for Mike, and then she'll dump Mike for me. _Sometimes his plans had been immediate and laughably simple: _if I put cheese in EJ's car, the smell will keep him from getting romantic with Sami._

Now he had no scheme and no weapon—not even cheese. He had nothing but an overwhelming desire to get to EJ and hurt him.

So when they returned to the hotel and Will helped Sami lift a still-sobbing Allie from the car, Lucas bolted away from them all.

He didn't want one more look at his brave, crusading Allie who was finally getting the chance to bask in her mother's love.

He didn't want one more look at his kind, clever Will who had dedicated his life to saving others.

He didn't want one more look at his fierce, spirited Sami who would know exactly what he was about to do if she so much as caught his eye. It didn't matter that they had spent a lifetime apart; first they had spent a lifetime together. She knew what made him laugh, what made him hurt, what made him fight, and what made him run. She knew everything about him, from the violent to the petty to the selfless.

She knew that he had killed before.

She knew that killing was too good for EJ.

It wasn't hard to find HM Prison Brixton, South London, at which most prisoners in the midst of trials taking place in London were held. He was politely informed that no one other than legal counsel was permitted to visit EJ DiMera; surely, with the case being so high-profile and the prisoner being so well-heeled, he understood why.

Lucas looked the guard in the eye. "She's my daughter," was all he said. It was all he had to say. No one in all of London was talking about anything but the trial and the nameless girl.

The guard studied him steadily. "I'll see what I can do."

Ten minutes later, Lucas found himself in a visiting room. It was disconcerting to be on the wrong side of the glass. _No, the right side_, he tried to tell himself, but it didn't feel any less odd to be in the visitors' area instead of the inmates' area.

EJ strolled in before Lucas was able to sit down. He was wearing an impeccably tailored suit, though he lacked a belt and a tie, and he stood as if the man who escorted him was a butler rather than his keeper.

Lucas' clothes were disheveled by travel and sweat and tears and nerves. He even looked as if he were the prisoner and EJ the guest.

"You get special permission to wear that in here?" Lucas blurted out before they had even acknowledged one another.

As always, EJ gazed detachedly at Lucas as if Lucas were something insignificant. "I've not been convicted of anything, Lucas, and as such I'm permitted to wear my own clothing."

He didn't comment on Lucas' attire. He didn't have to. Like EJ, Lucas had been raised by someone who had taught him to take care with his appearance in all situations. EJ was following Stefano's rules. Lucas had decided that he didn't give a damn about Kate's rules somewhere around the first time he'd met Sami Brady.

"How jolly brilliant for you," Lucas replied, mimicking EJ's accent without intending to do so.

"I see you had Alicia trained to speak like an American. Couldn't handle hearing her sound like me, could you?"

"That was Allie's decision. It was her decision to make sure you paid for what you did to her, too."

"Alicia is not making me do anything, Lucas, despite your best efforts. I only regret that you decided to put her through this fruitless exercise. I love her like my own—"

_"Don't stand there and call what you did to her love!"_

"Don't be foolish enough to believe that I ever did what she claimed. Alicia began to lie and couldn't find her way out, much like her mother always did. Speaking of my wife, how is Samantha doing?"

"She's not your wife and it's not your business."

EJ shrugged. "Just making pleasant conversation. I have better sources than you, anyway. Would you try to meet Giovanni at the airport, if you aren't doing anything else? I don't like the idea of my son—"

"He's not your son!"

"Not my wife, not my son. You just love staying inside your little delusional world, don't you?"

"Your little world, EJ, yours. You're the one who won't be seeing anything but four walls for the rest of your life. You can think about Sami and Will and the twins and me if you want, but we won't think about you."

"So Samantha ran back to her old security blanket Lucas when I wasn't available, and you _accepted_?"

In spite of himself, Lucas blanched. He had instinctively reverted to his old habit of thinking of himself and Sami as a unit, but Sami had long since divorced him in order to marry EJ. It had been easy to think of Sami as the great love of his life, never to be equaled, and always to be missed, when Sami—and EJ—hadn't been around to interrupt his imaginings.

EJ laughed coolly. "Even with me out of the way, you couldn't get Samantha back?"

"You know," Lucas told EJ, "I came here thinking that I wanted some kind of revenge, that I wanted to make sure you didn't hurt anyone else. But I don't know what else I can do. You're sitting there telling me that the woman you raped and almost killed would choose to be with you if she had the opportunity. Newsflash: she never chose you. She married you because you threatened to kill her family. She could have had you when you first showed up in Salem, but she wanted me. She could have had you after you took her off to England, but she decided to be your prisoner instead of your partner. She could be standing here with you right now, but instead she's taking care of her daughter who you violated. Sami doesn't like you, Sami doesn't want you, and you're sitting here pretending that she chased you all over the world begging you to give her a chance. You're reduced to trying to upset me by pretending we had some kind of love triangle going on, but I'm going to go home to my children, and my brothers and sisters, and my mother, and my cousins and aunts and uncles and friends, and Sami."

"Boo hoo," said EJ flatly. "I think I'll sit here and cry because everyone loves you and no one loves me."

"You do that," said Lucas, and left.

He hadn't made it more than two blocks from Brixton Prison when Will stepped into his path.

"I knew it," seethed Will. "I knew you went to see him. You didn't kill him, did you?"

A few passerby crossed the street as they took in Will's flushed face, wild eyes, and rumpled clothes.

"I didn't kill anyone." _Well, not lately. Sorry, Franco. You're old news. _

Will sighed. "Good."

"Everything's okay," Lucas added, even though it wasn't, and even though Will knew that.

"I'm still mad at you," said Will, calmer now.

"Why?" Lucas nudged Will's side with his own, and they began walking back the way Will had come.

"You didn't invite me. I could have helped."

"Helped me make a fool of myself? Bud, you know I don't need any help in that department."

"Did they let you see him?"

"They did."

"Did he look—how did he look? I couldn't see him from where we were sitting at the trial."

"Wearing a damn Armani suit. Looks exactly like he did the last time I saw him."

"How close was the supervision?"

"Honestly, I got the idea that the guard would have looked the other way if I'd wanted to take a few swings through the window. But I didn't, because that wouldn't do any good. You know that. You know how things worked out the last time I tried to take care of him."

"Guns are illegal in this country anyway," said Will nonchalantly. He raised a paper bag that was clenched in his fist. "But it's really interesting how you can get some drugs over the counter that you could never get anonymously at home. Stuff that, when you mix it with samples drug companies give doctors, samples no one would notice a doctor having in his carry-on luggage—"

"Stop it!" Lucas snapped. He ripped the bag from Will's hands and shoved it deep into his coat pocket. "Will, I don't want to hear you talking about something like this ever again. I don't want you thinking about it."

"What, and it's all right for you?"

"You're better than I am. You always have been. You know that."

"Take me off that stupid pedestal you have me on, would you? I'm not some kind of saint, or slave to the rules."

"No one would confuse you with a saint after the way you spoke to your mother at the trial," Lucas told Will sharply.

"Sorry about that," Will muttered. "But look, if someone is going to take… initiative here, it should be me."

"No one is going to take 'initiative.'" Lucas made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. "No one, and especially not you."

"If it's going to be especially not anyone, it's going to be especially not you. The last time you took 'initiative,' you ended up in prison for thirteen years."

"So let me get this straight, Buddy." Lucas affectionately tapped his fingers on Will's arm to lighten the sting of his words. "Your mother is an idiot for trying to protect her family by marrying the man who raped her and threatened to kill us. I'm an idiot for trying to protect us all by taking a shot at the guy and ending up in jail. The only one in this family who could possibly be right about anything ever again is you."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Your mom and I, we made mistakes and we've both been open with you about that. Maybe too open. It's no secret that we admire you and wonder how on earth you turned out so well after the kind of childhood we put you through. I know we made you feel like you had to be the adult in the family when you were a kid—"

"Can we not go through this again?"

"All right, I'll cut to the chase. First of all, you're a very moral human being and you took an oath to do no harm. You are not going to _take initiative_ because you're better than that. Second of all, it is not your responsibility to keep me from making mistakes. I'm the parent, you're the child."

"I'm not a ch—"

"You're my child."

"Thought I was your _Buddy_," Will said, but the venom he intended was nowhere to be found. Instead, he sounded vulnerable, like the little kid he had never particularly been.

"That, too." Lucas caressed Will's arm again. "Buddy doesn't mean keeper."

"So since we're pals and all, I get to ask you about your love life."

Lucas winced. "We've been down this road before."

"I know. I'd prefer that Allie not be the roadkill this time—I'm expressing my concern as her brother, not anything more, _of course_."

Lucas' steps slowed down and he turned to look hard at Will. "I think we need to declare a moratorium on metaphors for the rest of this conversation."

"Allie noticed the way you and Mom looked at each other in the airport before we left Salem. She's already got ideas about you getting back together and being a real—traditional—family, just like I did when I was her age. You and Mom broke my heart again and again when I was a kid. I think you should promise me right now that you won't get together with Mom this time."

Lucas pronounced each word slowly and clearly. "Not. A. Chance."

"Why? Because you want me to stop trying to control everything or because you want to get back together with Mom?"

"The first one."

"What about the second?"

"You don't like it when I ask you about Joy, do you?"

"I'll promise to stop dating Joy if you promise not to date Mom."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Then you need to get out more, because there's a lot of stupid in the world."

Lucas laughed. "You know what, I take it back. But it was still stupid."

"And I still want an answer. If it was up to you, just you, would you want you and Mom to be a couple?"

"I can't answer that. It's not up to just me."

"Cop out."

"Nothing wrong with a good cop out."

The walked in silence for a while. "The answer is yes, isn't it? You would have just told me if it was no. But you're thinking about how maybe Mom isn't ready to make that kind of decision so soon after coming out of a coma—medical science says she is, by the way—and you're thinking about how it will affect Allie and Johnny. Because if it was just you, you'd take the risk. You'd have grabbed her and kissed her right there in the airport."

Lucas sighed. "You always did go around asking questions when you already knew everything."

* * *

Back in the hotel room, Allie slumped onto the couch and cried for most of an hour while Sami watched the clock and wondered when she should call a doctor. Or her mother. Or even Claire and Ciara, who seemed to be experts at giving Allie just what she needed when Sami was clueless.

_Nice of Lucas and Will to stick around_, she thought sourly. But Lucas had never been able to stand to see her cry, and he probably couldn't take it with Allie, either. Maybe that was why he had himself convinced that Allie _didn't _cry.

"I've got you, baby girl," Sami whispered. But Allie didn't seem to feel Sami's lips on her cheek or Sami's arms around her body.

_God, I hope Lucas didn't go after EJ again. We have to focus on Allie. Not the monster who did this to her._

Sami crossed her fingers in the hope that Lucas wouldn't be able to get anywhere near EJ. Then she uncrossed them, thinking it was hopeless. When Lucas wanted something, he found a way to get it.

Allie tears slowed only after she slipped into a fitful sleep with her head in Sami's lap.  
_  
"Rock-a-bye Allie, sent from above…" _Sami began again. It seemed to help, so she promised herself that she would keep singing all day if it gave Allie a break from her demons and a well-deserved rest.

But after about fifteen minutes, Allie woke abruptly and sat upright.

"Allie?" Sami asked.

Allie didn't respond. Sami forced herself to sound light-hearted; Allie had enough sadness without any help.

"Allie, Allie, Allie," Sami sing-songed.

Allie looked up blearily and smiled a watery, tired smile. "What?"

"Nothing." Sami nudged her daughter playfully. "I like your name. I can't say it enough."

"I hope you like my name. You chose it, right?"

"Mmm-mmm." Sami kept smiling, but her eyes were pensive. "Johnny, I named. There wasn't any question. As soon as he was born I knew it had to be John Roman. But you… I'd been set on calling you Colleen."

"You wanted to name me after that trampy nun?" asked Allie, outraged. She wrenched herself away from Sami, though she remained perched on the couch. "Why? If she would have kept herself to herself a hundred years ago, or if she hadn't pretended to throw herself off a damn cliff, none of the rest of us would ever have been in this mess!"

"I don't know if that's true," said Sami thoughtfully. "Stefano was always going to be a psychopath. My father was always going to be the kind of man who tried to stop him. And my mother… if Stefano had met her, I think he always would have been obsessed with the idea of having her. Colleen was an excuse."

"She still wasn't some kind of stellar example of truth and righteousness." Allie scowled, and Sami suppressed a grin at how, in anger, Allie could sound very much like Lucas. She was also pleased to see that Allie's anger had driven back her exhaustion and anxiety (and was forced to admit that, in that way, Allie seemed very like Sami.)

"That's about how your father felt about it. So my next choice was Marlena—we would have called you Laney. And then I wanted to give you a J name to go with Johnny—Julia, Jane, Jezebel, something. Before we were expecting you, we'd always thought we might like to name our daughter Grace. We played _Amazing Grace_ at our wedding and it's always been a song that's really spoken to me, you know?"

Allie nodded. She slumped a little, and scooted closer to Sami again. "But whatever name I tried to pin on you—Grace, Colleen, Laney, Julie, Jane, Jezzie—nothing stuck. You'd look at me with this incredible wisdom, this amazing sensitivity. None of the names could encompass that like they needed to. Lucas finally named you and when he told me, I knew he'd gotten it right.

"But it seemed so incredibly presumptuous for me to name my daughter after Alice Horton. She was the kindest, strongest, smartest, best grandmother and mother and neighbor and friend to everyone, and how was any baby supposed to live up to that? Especially a baby whose parents were blackest sheep in the whole Horton-Brady clan? Even Hope didn't have the nerve to use Alice as Ciara's first name.

"But nothing else worked for you, because it turns out that you were meant to have that legacy. You have that same goodness, that same wisdom, that same generosity and resilience. No one else could have been the next Alice. I saw that over and over when you were a little girl, and I saw it again today. I was so proud of you, I was so in awe of you. I love you so much, Allie."

Sami put her arms around Allie again, and Allie hugged back fiercely. "I love you, too, Mom."

"Is there anything you'd like to do for the rest of the day?" Sami asked after a moment, as she continued to trace circles on Allie's back with one hand. "Do you feel up to going out? Is there something you'd like to bring in—DVDs and Indian takeout?"

"Aren't you allergic?"

"I don't like the smell, that's all, and I used to tell your dad it made me sick. But I'm not going to have an anaphylactic reaction. I ate it when I was pregnant with you and it didn't kill me."

Allie giggled. "Really?"

"Really. Lucas about died when I told him I was craving curry. I guess now we know why."

Allie's blue eyes sparkled with interest. "What else?"

"What else did I crave when I was pregnant with you? Everything. French toast. Anchovy pizza with ice cream and marmalade. Oh, all kinds of potato chips—"

"That was Johnny. He always wants them with weird stuff on them."

"I'll have to remember that. It was simpler with Will. I just wanted tacos all the time."

"What about—you said that you played _Amazing Grace _at your wedding?"

"Yes," Sami reminisced fondly. "Bagpipes, as we walked back down the aisle after the ceremony. I tripped stepping off the altar but before anything could happen—in that one second I was sure I'd destroyed my gown, the wedding, everything—but your father caught me. He always caught me."

Allie's heart sped up. Will had told her not to do this, but she couldn't help it. Besides, Will didn't know everything. Sami looked practically rapturous as she talked about her wedding to Lucas. And Allie had had a hard day doing something to help everyone else, so she deserved to do whatever she felt like now.

Thus content in her own righteousness, hardly able to hear her own words over the pounding of her heart, she asked whether Sami and Lucas might get together again.

Sami winced, but her smile stayed put. "I don't know, Allie. We've been through a lot. I'm not even sure how much your dad went through in prison. But if there's anything our past history has taught me, it's that you should never say never."

"You mean like how he married you after you dressed up as a man and pushed drugs?"

"Will made that sound worse than it was."

"Okay," said Allie simply. "But if it were up to you, you'd want to try again with Dad?"

"You deserve an honest answer. I'm going to give you one. But you can't take what I'm about to say to you as an excuse to start pulling stunts like your brother used to. No cheese in the heating system, no snakes in the sleeping bag."

"Will didn't tell me about the cheese," said Allie thoughtfully.

Sami raised her eyebrows.

Allie sighed. "No stunts. No cheese. No snakes. But you would like another chance with Dad?"

"I never stopped loving him. I never left him because I wanted to. It—it's been thirteen years for him and you and your brothers, but for me it's been three. Three years isn't enough for me to be over him. It's barely enough to keep me from begging him for another chance."

"You love Dad," Allie repeated, fascinated.

Sami nodded. "I will always love Lucas."

_**TBC**_


	30. Sonnez les Matines

**Part 30- Sonnez les Matines**

Johnny didn't expect mind being shunted back to the Kiriakis Mansion while his "parents," his "brother," and his sister went to London.

The mansion was more his style than the hovel Will had bought with his doctor's salary (which was probably mostly owned by a bank anyway).

Claire pointedly ignored him; Tyler fled in terror of him; Shawn and Philip buried themselves in work and were never home; and Belle was flawlessly kind no matter how condescending or belligerent Johnny's behavior.

And so, Johnny was mostly left alone, which was what he preferred.

For the first couple of hours.

By the end of the first day, though, he was at his wit's end. He was too jittery to sit still and couldn't focus on his laughably simple homework assignments. He looked longingly out the window at the tennis court and almost considered begging Aunt Belle to let him hit a few balls around (most of the snow from the latest storm had melted), but found that his hands were shaking too hard to hold a racket.

The butler served dinner. Johnny couldn't eat it, and no one said a word, because most of them weren't really eating, either.

He longed for a glass of wine. EJ had begun allowing Allie and Johnny to have sips of alcohol as soon as they were old enough to show an interest. They had been served small glasses of wine with dinner, if they liked, for at least a year before Lucas had decided to mess everything up.

The Americans, with their pseudo-puritan attitudes and their _addiction runs in the family_ lectures, were appalled when they learned of it. Allie didn't seem to mind the new restriction on her diet; she was always eager to please Lucas. To Johnny, the blanket refusal to allow him to have a drink was just one more indication of how imperceptive and narrow-minded his new "family" could be. His annoyance had mainly been an intellectual exercise.

Until today.

Now he wanted a buzz, damn it, and one drink to take the edge off of his nerves wasn't going to turn him into a raving alcoholic.

It wasn't as if the nerves were even his, he thought resentfully. Johnny didn't want anything bad to happen to EJ, but EJ could take care of himself—and obviously would, as evidenced by his failure to contact Johnny these past few months that Johnny had been in America. Johnny didn't want anything bad to happen to Allie, either, but she had chosen this course of her own volition.

Allie was the one who was nervous, he decided, and since he was her twin he was sensing her anxiety. _She doesn't have to do this_, he thought for the umpteenth time. _EJ would never have hurt her like that, never, and if he had I would have known and I would have stopped it. Twin, not twin, I always promised to protect her._

The fall they were five, Johnny had poured glue into their first tutor's shoe because the tutor had been too hard on Allie about her handwriting.

The summer they were seven, Johnny had chased a dog that barked at Allie and had been bitten. He still had the scar on his forearm.

The Christmas they were nine, Johnny had noticed that a piece of candy beside Allie's plate was broken, so he swapped it for his own, whole candy. Girls cared so much more about how things looked, after all, and Johnny didn't mind if his was broken as long as it tasted good.

The spring they were eleven, EJ had taken them to a museum that bored Johnny but fascinated Allie. Johnny had spent the whole time thrusting himself between Allie and the rest of the crowd so no one jostled her while she looked. He couldn't even remember what had so interested her, but he could remember her face as she gazed at it.

None of that made him feel justified in doing nothing in Salem while Allie was panicking in London.

_Just calm down, Allie,_ he thought over whatever perverse plane of existence connected them when they were thousands of miles apart.

She didn't calm down. He didn't calm down.

So when dinner was over and the women had gathered in the living room to talk about how proud they were of Allie—like they knew the first thing about Allie!—Johnny snuck into the kitchen, tucked a bottle of vodka under his shirt, and retreated to his bedroom.

The first sip was horrible, and the second sip wasn't much better, but by the third sip he stopped shaking and the taste wasn't quite so bad. A sense of confidence rushed through him and he reached for his homework; he might as well get it done.

Then he reconsidered. Why on earth was he bothering with homework? He already knew everything the idiot teachers at Salem Middle School were attempting to instill in their moronic charges, excepting American history, and how much of that did anyone need? The country had been around for less than three hundred years!

He took another swallow of vodka. His room was suddenly warm, and he removed his dark gray sweater and flung it to the floor. Then he stepped on it and kicked it under the bed.

Stupid sweater. He'd had lots of clothes—school uniforms and otherwise—back on the other side of the ocean, but he'd lost them, along with everything else, when he'd been kidnapped. He didn't know which member of his new family had appropriated his current wardrobe for him. Probably Allie had consulted, because a lot of it was just to his taste.

Damn it, he liked the gray sweater, and he looked good in it, too. But he left it under the bed as a matter of principle. He had more important things to do. Like worry about Allie.

"You don't have to do this," he said out loud, as if she could somehow hear him. "Well, why shouldn't you be able to hear me? We're twins, after all. Twins can do things like that. Don't know how I didn't know you were my twin."

He reached for the bottle again and ran his tongue around the outside of it before tilting it upwards. Some vodka splashed on his face and t-shirt instead of making it into his mouth. For some reason, this seemed funny. Johnny laughed.

"Don't know how I _forgot_. I knew her. I called her Mommy, and so did you." The puzzling, dreamlike memories had made sense almost as soon as Allie had informed him that they were brother and sister. He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on them; he hadn't wanted the confusion.

_Now that Johnny and Allie were three years old, EJ let them sit on the big kid swings at the park instead of the baby swings. It was a huge achievement, and they couldn't wait to tell Sami when they got home._

"Mommy!" they chorused. "Mommy, Mommy!" Sami knelt down and pulled them both into a bone-crushing hug.

"Mommy, I swung so high!"

"Me too, Mommy, I swung the highest!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"I missed you, Mommy!"

"I missed you most, why can't you come and play with us?"

Sami's eyes were full of tears, like they often were. "I wish I could come with you. I wish it more than anything. Someday I'll take you both to the playground in Salem, where I grew up—"

"But someday isn't today, is it, darling?" asked EJ. He stood posed in the doorway, watching Sami and the twins with detached bemusement. "And I think it's time for their naps."

As if on cue, Johnny yawned.

Sami, her face rigid with some emotion Johnny didn't understand, shooed them both upstairs. Allie jumped onto Johnny's bed instead of her own, but Johnny didn't mind, and Sami didn't object.

"Whose song first?" Sami asked.

"Mine!" said Johnny.

"Save the best for last," chirped Allie, and Sami laughed and stroked Allie's soft blonde hair, then Johnny's dark curls.

"Close your eyes," Sami said, and they did.

Then Sami sang.

Go to sleep now, go to sleep now,  
Baby John, Baby John,  
'Til morning bells are ringing,  
Morning bells are ringing,  
Ding, ding, dong  
Ding, ding, dong…

"And Allie's song," Johnny said to himself, irritated at the holes in his memory. "I know it… it… was it _Hush Little Baby_? No, _Rock-a-bye Baby_."

Almost unreasonably pleased with himself, he fairly skipped from one side of the room to the other. "Rock-a-bye Allie," he sang off-key, "sent from above. God's little angel, this song is dumb!"

He eyed the vodka. It wasn't making him feel better anymore. He even felt a little dizzy, and he knew that another gulp would make the lurching feeling worse.

"God, it's true. She's my mother, Allie's my sister, and Lucas… if… Mom… was with him first, then it's practically biologically impossible that his sperm… gross… wouldn't have, before EJ… and she was, he was keeping her a prisoner. If he did rape her, and he did keep her there, and then he didn't send Allie to school with me, and Allie does look like Mommy, and Allie doesn't lie, she can't lie, she sucks at it, can't even play poker, she wouldn't say it happened if it didn't… God."

He knew another drink wouldn't make him feel better, but the alternative was to keep dwelling on what a tosser he was.

He threw his head back and swallowed once more.

"That might not have been a good idea," he said to himself, and he stumbled to the bed and collapsed on his objecting stomach. The room spun around him. "Never had that much before," he mumbled. "Now I know why."

Once he got used to the spinning, he slept.

He roused several hours later when he heard Hope shouting at Claire and Ciara to go to bed.

He groaned. His body felt stiff, his head was half-fuzzy and half-achy, and his mouth was painfully dry. He needed a glass of water with a painkiller, he needed to relieve himself, and he needed to get to Allie.

The first two problems were easily solved.

The third was going to take some doing.

While he was brushing his teeth, changing his clothes, and hiding the vodka bottle in the bottom drawer of the dresser, he came up with a plan that was either ludicrous or inspired.

He glanced in the mirror and saw his reflection's lips curl into the ghost of a smirk.

Of _course _his plan was inspired. He might be a tosser, but he was also bloody brilliant. Getting from Salem to London with no passport, no money, and no time to spare might be difficult for some, but not for Johnny.

He opened the bedroom door slowly, quietly, in case Hope or one of the other adults was still minding Ciara and Claire. The hallway, though, was clear, and Johnny padded the few steps to Tyler's room.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust before knocking softly on Tyler's door. He knew that he had to humble himself, but he didn't have to enjoy it.

"Come in," called Tyler.

Johnny slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself. Tyler's back stiffened and his eyes widened.

Johnny raised his hands in surrender. "I come in peace," he told Tyler.

"OK," said Tyler slowly, clearly not convinced of anything of the kind.

"I should start by apologizing for basically everything I've ever said to you."

"What do you want?" asked Tyler.

Johnny almost smiled. For the first time, he wondered if he might be able to like his cousin… and there would be no more denying that Tyler was his cousin. "Your passport and your emergency credit card," Johnny said bluntly.

"Is that all?"

Johnny nodded. "Yes."

"I don't know where Mom keeps the passport, and if you use the credit card there's an alert on Dad's computer as soon as you do."

"I only need to buy one thing."

"A plane ticket to London?"

"Well, yes."

"One way?" asked Tyler wryly.

"For now. I don't know when they're planning on coming back."

Tyler shook his head. "I'm not going to let you go over there and hurt Allie. She's always been really nice. Besides, I'd be grounded until I'm 25 if I did that."

"You can tell your parents I stole the credit card and the passport. And I don't want to hurt Allie, I want to protect her. I want to apologize to her."

Tyler laughed.

"I apologized to _you_, didn't I?"

Tyler laughed again. "It was very sincere," he said wryly.

So Johnny did the only thing he could think of doing. He deposited himself, cross-legged, on Tyler's bedroom floor and told him everything he remembered about the first three years of his life. He told him how he'd worked and played and eaten and breathed with Allie. He told him about being cornered at school and dragged to Salem, and what it had been like to learn that the man he had admired all his life had violated both Sami and Allie. He told him how hard it was to admit that he had broken his promise to take care of Allie, always. He told him how it was even harder to admit that Lucas and Will probably felt the exact same way.

The alcohol that remained in his bloodstream helped the words find their way out of his mouth.

Tyler listened quietly and without interrupting. "All right," he finally decreed. "I'll do it, but first you have to pass a test."

"Anything."

Tyler pointed to the selection of gaming systems in the corner of his room. "You have to beat me."

Johnny blanched. He had had some video games in the townhouse in London, but neither her nor Allie had played them much. EJ had made it clear that he preferred that the twins use their time in more useful ways, and Allie and Johnny had done so.

Johnny had started to play more often at school, since some of the other boys had invited him and he'd wanted to get to know them. He hadn't developed any real skill, though.

"All right," Johnny told Tyler.

Tyler fussed with wires and buttons for a moment, and then handed a controller to Johnny.

Johnny bit his lip until blood came and used every ounce of concentration, but it wasn't enough. Tyler beat him so badly that it wasn't even worth plying "best two of three?" or "best three of five?"

"Please," Johnny whispered, not caring that he was begging. "Please. There has to be something you want. Do you want to hit me? Do you want to humiliate me?"

"Not everyone gets off on that," said Tyler.

Johnny sighed. "Don't you want to get rid of me? If I go over there and never come back, I'm out of your hair. If I go over there and I do come back, you obviously didn't do anything wrong. Blackmail! What if I pose for horrible, embarrassing pictures and if I come back you'll always be able to get me to do what you—"

"I don't believe in blackmail. It's how my parents broke the rules and took me away from my adoptive parents."

Johnny flinched. "Do you wish they hadn't?"

Tyler shrugged.

Then he picked up a coat that had been flung over a chair and plucked a wallet from the pocket. He removed a green credit card and handed it to Johnny. "The security code is 0219," he said.

The credit card felt heavy in Johnny's hand. "Why?" he asked breathlessly.

"Because I think you really want to—I watched your face the whole time we were playing. I'm used to watching people while they're all watching Claire." Tyler blinked, as if he hadn't quite expected to make that admission. Apparently Johnny's confessional attitude had been contagious. "You—when you knew you were going to lose you looked shattered."

"So you didn't even have to pay attention to the game to beat me?" asked Johnny, because he didn't want to go further into whether or not he had been shattered.

"You aren't very good," said Tyler nonchalantly. "The passport, Mom really does have it. Bottom of her jewelry box, on her dresser."

"Is it locked?"

"No."

"How old is it?"

"Four or five years."

"Perfect." Although they had two grandmothers in common, Johnny and Tyler didn't especially resemble each other. But a dark-haired nine-year-old in a passport photo could easily grow into a thirteen-year-old who looked like an entirely different person.

"I can go get it," offered Tyler. "They'll be less suspicious of me if they catch me."

Johnny shook his head. "You should have plausible deniability." He slid the credit card into his pocket, then held out his hand to Tyler. Tyler looked surprised, but he extended his own hand and they shook on it.

"I won't forget this," Johnny said. "When I come back, I'll be a good friend to you. Really. In fact, I'll start now. That thing you said, about watching people when they're watching Claire?"

"Yeah," said Tyler cautiously.

"Use it to pick up girls. Trust me, it'll work."

Tyler burst out laughing.

"Unless you don't like girls. Which is cool," Johnny adjusted hastily.

"I like girls," Tyler confirmed.

"Good," Johnny nodded. "We'll check them out together. And we'll keep everyone else from checking out Allie and the others. That'll be hard work, so it's good that there are two of us."

"Don't you have a flight to catch?" Tyler asked.

"I'll be back," Johnny said, and left.

Johnny crept quietly from the "children's hall" through the guest wing and to the darkened master bedroom. As Tyler had promised, the jewelry box sat unlocked in plain sight. Four passports sat at the bottom of it; the third was Tyler's. It wouldn't fit in his pocket, so Johnny tucked it into the waistline of his jeans and slipped into the darkness.

The night was cold, but not as cold as it might have been. It wasn't bad weather for a run, Johnny decided, so he drew in a breath and started toward downtown at a good clip. His muscles loosened pleasantly; he hadn't run properly since he'd gotten to America and he'd missed it.

The cool air helped clean the remaining alcohol-induced cobwebs from his brain, too. He was on his way and her knew he was going in the right direction. That alone made him feel better than he'd felt in a long, long time.

As luck would have it, a crowd of Salem University students were already crowding the bus stop when he jogged up breathlessly. The bars had just closed and the students were heading back to dormitories and apartments. Johnny hid himself among the swarm and was able to make it onto the bus to the airport without being noticed.

At the airport, he paid an unconscionable price for a coach seat on the next flight to London. The saleswoman didn't make much of Johnny traveling alone. His English accent was a help; so, too, was the name "Kiriakis" on the passport. He explained that he lived in England with his mother, but that he held dual citizenship because his father, Philip Kiriakis, lived in America. No one looked very hard at the passport, although Johnny did garner one remark about how he'd certainly grown in the past few years.

Still, Johnny's heart didn't stop pounding until the plane had cleared the runway.

He had fantasized ten thousand times about running away from Salem and returning home to London, and now he was finally doing it. It wasn't at all as he had imagined it.

He closed his eyes to block out the noise of the people around him.

A tune lodged itself in his head.  
_  
Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,  
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?  
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines…_

_**TBC**_


	31. A Visit

**Part 31- A Visit**

Johnny's plane touched down at Heathrow Airport at 3:00 in the afternoon. He felt a pang of loneliness as he glanced around the cabin. Every other passenger—the only exceptions he could see were small babies—had pulled out a phone and was texting or calling someone.

"Yes, we just landed…"

"The flight wasn't bad at all…"

"Don't worry, I don't mind taking the tube…"

"Meet you at the usual spot?"

"So glad to be home..."

"Thanks so much…"

"Can't wait to see you!"

"Love you, too…"

Johnny was the only person on the plane who had no one waiting for him. But he was also the only person on the planet who didn't have a mobile phone, so it all worked out.

* * *

At precisely 3:00 in the afternoon, Lucas' cell phone rang quite unexpectedly. All four of them—Lucas, Sami, Will, and Allie—jumped at the sound. Lucas and Will had returned to the hotel just as Sami and Allie were beginning to watch _The Princess Bride_ on television, and now they were all lost in the story as Inigo Montoya finally came face-to-face with the six-fingered man.

"Lucas Horton." Lucas walked into the next room so as not to disturb the movie's climax.

"Mr. Horton. My name is Julian Jones. We met today at HMP Brixton."

It took a moment for Lucas to remember what HMP Brixton was, even though he had only been two places—the courtroom and the prison—that day. "Of course. Thank you again for your kindness."

"Don't mention it." The man's voice had a lethally hard edge to it. "I have daughters. Twin girls, seven years old. A lot of the men here have daughters. The ones who don't have sisters or nieces—friends, grandchildren—well, we were wondering if you'd like to come back here. I know your family obligations are most important today, but if you can get away, we have a little gift that we think you'd really enjoy."

The ugliest part of Lucas was certain that he would.

"I'm on my way," he said, suggesting that his better judgment tell it to someone who cared.

Sami didn't look at all pleased that he was leaving again without explaining why, but he silenced her with a significant glance at Will. She needed to know about Will's plan to poison EJ. Hell, she needed to know that Lucas had spoken to EJ. But those conversations needed to take place in private, without Will and Allie eavesdropping or speculating.

Lucas had walked most of the four miles to the South London earlier that day. This time, he decided to take a cab. He wanted to see his gift as soon as possible.

By 3:30, they were making their slow way through the traffic near Heathrow.

* * *

By 3:30, Johnny had managed to scramble off the plane and through customs. He had been jumped to the head of a few lines due to his status as a child traveling alone. He would have made even better time with his own British passport instead of Tyler's American one, but the cover story about having an American father and an English mother worked again.

Although he had lived in London for most of his life, he didn't know the city well. He had always been escorted from place to place and never left to find his own way. Besides, EJ and the twins had traveled a great deal during those years between Sami's accident and Johnny's admission to boarding school.

He knew that he had 90 minutes, at most, of daylight remaining, so he found a map and headed on foot toward the hotel he had heard Lucas and Will mention several times. Luckily Heathrow was smack in the middle of the city.

Johnny was tired, and looked longingly at the black cabs that wended their way through the traffic. He had a few dollars, but he needed to save them for an emergency. His exhaustion wasn't an emergency, not yet.

The fourth or fifth time his envious gaze fell on a cab, though, his body stiffened with shock. The passenger was Lucas. Obviously, this was a sign from some higher power which wanted Johnny to be able to get on with this repentance thing.

Johnny was inches away from jumping into traffic and pounding on the cab's window when it occurred to him that the cab was heading away from the hotel, and toward South London. It didn't make sense that Lucas would be going to South London alone; Allie's testimony had been scheduled for early in the morning. Even if she had testified for the whole of the day, she should have been back at the hotel relaxing by now. And Lucas should have been hovering over her.

What was in South London? Hampton Court? The Globe Theater? Johnny didn't think Lucas looked like a tourist.

Then he remembered. HMP Brixton. He had long since determined that that was almost certainly where EJ was being held, though the journalists covering the story had been careful not to confirm his suspicion.

Johnny's stomach clenched.

Lucas was going to see EJ.

He wasn't exhausted any longer, but this had become an emergency. And the higher power didn't want him to get on with apologizing. It wanted him for some other reason.

He saw a vacant cab and fled to it. "Follow that cab." He pointed at Lucas' ride.

The driver did not look convinced. "HMP Brixton," Johnny tried. "American dollars all right?" He flashed his money as if it were no big deal.

The driver grunted in assent, and stayed close behind Lucas until they drew as near the prison as was allowed.

Johnny paid the driver and followed Lucas to the entrance.

A guard seemed to have been waiting for Lucas, and ushered him inside in a friendly manner. "We'll go in the employees' way. You aren't officially here."

Now things became tricky for Johnny. No one was going to let a child inside, whether he was the son of a prisoner or the son of a visitor or some strange combination. And it wasn't much easier to break into prison than it was to break out.

He decided to go with the completely brazen approach. He marched inside as if he didn't expect anyone to stop him. And for the first few checkpoints, no one did.

He arrived at another checkpoint in time to see the guard giving Lucas a perfunctory once-over. Then the guard used a code to open a locked door. Johnny didn't catch the code, and he doubted that the lock would take kindly to a guessing game. One wrong number probably sounded an alarm.

He stood on his toes and tried to see what was going on through a narrow, bullet proof window, but while he could make out a hallway, he couldn't make out anything else.

Frustrated, Johnny poked the "speaker" button below the lock. Maybe the guard and Lucas would let him join them if he asked nicely. At least, Lucas would vouch for Johnny's identity before someone caught him with his inaccurate passport.

_"…A recreation area," _the guard was telling Lucas. They hadn't moved any further down the hall.

So maybe Johnny would just eavesdrop for a while.

* * *

"It's a recreation area," Lucas' guide informed him. "For watching football, playing cards, socializing. Hardly anyone here has been convicted of anything, and we treat them as such to the extent that we can. They wear their own clothes, for example."

Lucas nodded. He'd been informed of that already.

"And we let them have as much time out of their cells as possible. If they're willing to conduct themselves appropriately, there is no reason for us to restrict their movement. Ordinarily there's very little trouble, as no one wants to lose his privileges. So naturally we were very surprised when things got out of control this afternoon."

There could be no doubt that by "surprised," the man meant the exact opposite.

"Even murderers think child molesters are scum," he concluded as he waved a key fob at the door. A light flashed from red to green, and the door swung open.

The smell hit Lucas first. He wasn't prepared and he gagged hard. Urine, excrement, and vomit didn't quite overwhelm the tangy smell of blood.

EJ lay semiconscious on the floor. His expensive suit was now ripped and stained beyond repair. One eye was heavily bruised; the other looked to be swollen shut. There was blood on his lips and he appeared to have been sick on himself.

Lucas had seen this kind of thing before during his own long years in prison, and he thought he had become largely desensitized to it. Still, the picture before him stirred up conflicting emotions.

A voice in his head—it sounded remarkably like his late, lamented Grandma Alice—told him that it was never, ever acceptable to enjoy another person's pain. _You don't dehumanize even the lowest prisoner guilty of the most heinous crime. You don't do that, because that brings you down to his level. _

Another voice in his head—this one a bit more like his mother—shouted the first voice down. _He deserved it. He deserves to be debased. He deserves to feel pain. And you and Allie deserve to know that people you've never even met are on your side._

The second voice won.

"Good," he said.

EJ opened his one good eye.

* * *

_Good?_ What was good?

Johnny restrained himself from punching the wall in frustration. It was nice that he had managed to get close enough to hear what was going on, but it was heart-stoppingly aggravating not to be able to see as well.

On the other hand, if EJ had been attacked, perhaps Johnny didn't want to see anything. He had hardly been able to stomach looking at Sami before her surgery, and he barely knew Sami. But EJ had always been there, at least until recently.

He was so close; EJ might hear him if he yelled. Maybe EJ could explain.

No, he couldn't. Allie had told him too much, and Allie didn't lie. Johnny had seen too much, and he knew what it meant now.

He rededicated himself to listening.  
_  
"Lying there, you're actually going to tell me that?"_ Lucas asked angrily.

Johnny couldn't hear EJ's response.  
_  
"You know what, I don't care. I told you before—you're right where I want you. I don't have anything else to say to you."  
_  
Johnny strained, but he still couldn't hear EJ.

_"You think you can bait me into something? You can't even stand up and wipe some stranger's shit off your clothes. I'm not going to do anything, because I don't have to and I have too much to lose. But I want you to know something. Just because I'm not going to kick you now, that doesn't mean that I'm not capable of protecting my family. Before you ever darkened Sami's door, there was a guy named Franco. He thought he was some kind of Italian Stallion. You ever meet him? No, you didn't, because I killed him. He had a fire poker and he was going to hit my Mom over the head. So I took a gun out of the drawer and I shot him, because that's what it took to protect my mother. You ever look into your own family's records? I used to work for Tony—Andre—Tony—whoever it was. The hitman went for him, but he never tried it again. I killed him with my bare hands, though in retrospect I shouldn't have bothered. I will do it again, EJ, if that's what it takes to keep you away from Sami, or Will, or Allie, or Johnny—"_

That was it. Johnny didn't want to see, and he didn't want to hear any more. He didn't want to know that Lucas went around killing people. He didn't want to know that Lucas would do it again, not just over Allie, but over him, too.

"STOP!" he shouted into the speaker.

Quicker than quick, a door inside banged shut and the door in front of Johnny opened.

"Who are you?" snapped the guard. He grabbed Johnny roughly; Johnny didn't bother to struggle as he was searched for weapons.

"Johnny!" said Lucas, unbelieving.

"You know him?"

"He's… her twin brother."

The guard evaluated Johnny and Lucas carefully. "You want him to see?"

Lucas looked at Johnny. Johnny's head nodded up and down without permission from his mind.

In the thirty seconds he had to plan, Johnny decided that speaking to EJ would be meaningless. EJ would lie. EJ had lied about Sami and he'd lied about Allie, and he'd probably even lied about believing Johnny was his son.

But if EJ had gone to so much effort to steal Johnny and Allie, then there was one thing Johnny could do to hurt him. It would be small revenge, but it was all Johnny could do.

He would look hard at EJ, turn away, and then give Lucas a hug and tell him that he was his dad.

When the door opened, EJ was in the process of pulling himself into a sitting position. His eyes met Johnny's. "Hi, sweetheart," whispered EJ hoarsely.

All of the years that Johnny had thought of himself, EJ, and Allie as the happiest of families collided with Allie's angry voice: _he raped her, and I know because that's what he tried to do to me._

Johnny's mind began to spin so fast that he felt sick. His ears started to ring and he couldn't see clearly. He reached out aimlessly for something to hold on to, but his hand met only air.

Then he felt Lucas' hand on his back and leaned gratefully into the support. "Dad?" he managed. "Dad, I'm going to pass out."

Lucas' hands tightened on Johnny. "I've got you."

"Thanks, Dad," Johnny mumbled, but he didn't get to see EJ's reaction because he was too busy trying not to collapse.

* * *

Lucas wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that Johnny had somehow decided to become a model citizen and member of the family—in fact, he suspected that Johnny styling Lucas as "Dad" had more to do with EJ than it did with Lucas—but he savored the unexpected gift all the same. He felt a mean thrill of pleasure at EJ's unconcealed horror and hurt alongside his own happiness. Fake or not, it wasn't every day that your youngest son acknowledged you as his father for the first time.

But he didn't have time to dwell on any of it. Johnny leaned against him, weak-kneed, until Lucas had thanked the guards profusely and gotten them off of the prison's premises.

Lucas was trying to find a way to ask Johnny what he needed, and also how the hell he'd gotten himself to London, but the words wouldn't come. But Johnny broke the silence.

"Did you really kill all those people?"

Lucas' jaw clenched. "Two people. It was to save someone else's life both times."

"Does Mom know?"

"She was standing right next to me the second time. She walked in a few minutes after it happened the first time." Lucas mentally added the subject of Franco Kelly to his list of things he and Sami absolutely had to discuss at the first available moment—especially since what he'd told Johnny was technically true, but hardly the significant part of the story.

Johnny seemed steadier on his feet in the cold, dark, fresh air, but Lucas didn't think he was ready for an interrogation yet. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," said Johnny succinctly.

"Hungry? Tired?" Lucas prompted.

"Hungry and I can't eat. Tired and I can't sleep."

Lucas nodded. "Join the club."

Johnny looked down at his feet. Lucas had never before seen Johnny make such a submissive gesture. "I need to apologize to Allie."

"Yes, you do. And you can in a few minutes. Right after you explain how you got here."

"I used Tyler's credit card and passport."

"And I suppose Tyler just gave them to you?"

Johnny shrugged.

"We'll talk about that later."

Johnny shrugged again.

It was strange for Lucas to retrace the steps he had made with Will earlier that day with his younger son. Lucas knew Will inside out; Johnny was a mystery.

"Do you often steal passports?" Lucas tried.

"Thought we were talking about that later." Johnny sighed. "No, I don't."

"What do you usually do when you're stressed?"

"Tennis."

Lucas couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Tennis? Really?"

"So?"

"So, nothing. That was my sport when I was your age. I had shelves of trophies, but it was the one sport Will wouldn't play. Basketball, baseball, lacrosse, archery, track, cross country—anything but tennis."

Johnny looked at Lucas with disbelief. "Really?" he mimicked.

"So?" Lucas mimicked.

"So, you've always seemed very… like the kind of person who thinks… not like someone who would play tennis."

"Did you know I went to one of the most exclusive military academies in the country? That until I met your mother I was all set to go to West Point?" Johnny shook his head. "Well, I did. Appearances were very important to my mother. Politics. Knowing the right people, wearing the right clothes, attending the right schools, being a member of the elite. She was a little bit like Stefano DiMera that way. But I decided that there are other things in life that are more important."

It was hard to say for sure in the dark, but Lucas thought Johnny's eyes might be glazing over. "I'll play you sometime soon," Lucas whispered, and escorted Johnny the rest of the way to the hotel in silence.

"You—can Allie and I be alone so I can apologize?" Johnny asked when they reached the door.

"If it's all right with her." Then Lucas called out in a louder voice, "Sami-Allie-Will! We have a visitor!"

_**TBC**_


	32. Interlude

**Part 32- Interlude**

"Johnny!" Allie exclaimed with unrestrained delight. She bounced from the bed, where she had been lounging, and flung her arms around her twin brother.

In the background, she was vaguely aware of Sami demanding to know how Johnny had ended up in London when he was meant to be in Salem. But it was no mystery to Allie. After all, Johnny always turned up exactly when and where she needed him. She couldn't bring herself to be surprised, despite the nasty things Johnny had said over the past few weeks.

"How was your flight?" Allie asked.

"Good," Johnny told her. "But I didn't come here to talk about my flight."

Allie gave Johnny her best "politely curious" look. She knew he was going to apologize, but even though she had already forgiven him, she didn't feel the need to make things any easier for him.

Johnny glanced at Lucas, who grabbed Sami by the arm. "Let's let the twins catch up," he told her. "I need to talk to you, anyway."

Sami gestured vaguely at Allie, but Lucas shook his head. "Allie wants to talk to Johnny, don't you, Allie-baba?" Allie nodded. "You'll come get us if there's a problem. And you'll," he added to Johnny, "behave yourself. Come on, Sami, we'll just be next door."

"Yes, sir, General, sir," muttered Sami sarcastically, but she followed Lucas from the room. Johnny and Allie were alone.

Allie sat back down on the bed, idly tracing her finger over the word "Juicy," which was emblazoned on the collar of the silvery-gray tracksuit that she wore. "So what did you want to say to me?" she asked.

Apparently she didn't sound quite guileless enough, because a relieved grin broke out on Johnny's tired face. He knew that she knew what she was doing, and he knew that she wasn't really mad. She loved him so much that she'd forgiven him immediately.

But Johnny swallowed the grin and looked serious as he sat beside Allie on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he started simply. "I'm sorry for what I said about Fath- about EJ. I'm sorry I said you lied and that you were brainwashed because I know that you didn't and you weren't. I'm sorry I wasn't right with you ever since you told me what happened and especially since you came here to testify. I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to your friends. I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to Will and Luca- er, Dad. I know I kind of put you in the middle about all that when you were already dealing with everything else. And I'm sorry I didn't- I'm sorry I didn't stop it before it happened. I meant to do a lot of the rotten things I did, but I never meant to let him- I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. So I'm sorry I didn't try harder, pay more attention, protect you better. And I had to come here in person to tell you as soon as I could."

Allie sat digesting that for a moment. Then she pulled herself up onto her knees and kissed Johnny on the cheek. "Thank you. I forgive you for everything, except one thing."

Johnny looked at her warily, suddenly not so cocky under his contrition. "Oh?"

"I don't forgive you for not knowing what was happening with EJ because you didn't have any way to know. I didn't tell you. You weren't there for most of it. It didn't get really bad until you left. You didn't do anything wrong."

Johnny shook his head hard.

"You didn't," Allie repeated. "Not you, not Will, not Mom and Dad. Just EJ."

"I saw him," Johnny whispered.

Allie felt the blood drain from her face. "Where? When?"

"In prison. Just now. Somebody- a bunch of somebodys- beat him up."

"Good!" snapped Allie. "Then he can see what it's like to be completely out of control." She wanted to swallow the words as soon as she'd said them. She and Johnny were only just on speaking terms again; she didn't need to rub the pain of someone he loved in his face.

"I couldn't agree more," said Johnny, and he even seemed to mean it, but he looked uncommonly wan.

Allie decided to change the subject. "How did you get here, anyway?"

Johnny handed her a credit card and a passport. Both were in Tyler Kiriakis' name.

"You stole these?" Allie asked.

"Keep a secret?"

"Duh."

"He gave them to me, but don't tell anyone else. Part of the deal is that I say I did it by myself and he doesn't get grounded."

"What was the rest of the deal?" Allie wanted to know.

Johnny told her all about how he'd talked Tyler into going along with his plan. Then he told her how he'd managed to get into the prison to see EJ. The story was predictable to Allie; Johnny had always been able to talk people into things. When the tale was over, Allie sighed contentedly. "Do you really think you and Ty will be friends now?"

"I don't know him very well. But yeah. I think we can."

"That would be so perfect if you did. You and me and Tyler and Claire and Ciara. Can you imagine what it would be like?"

"I don't think Claire is as forgiving as her brother. And Ciara definitely isn't."

Allie waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you and Ciara are perfect together. You both find the craziest ways to do things you shouldn't be able to do. It's just that neither of you ever wants to lose a battle of wits." She cocked her head in mock contemplation. "Maybe Ty and Claire and I can buy earplugs. Can you imagine?" she repeated. "When we all come to watch you play tennis, or when we all go to help out with the sets for whatever play Ciara's in? Just going to the movies, or talking about school up in one of our bedrooms while we're waiting for a family dinner? Maybe a family vacation in the summer? Whenever there's a problem, there will always be someone there to help. Whenever we're happy, we'll have someone to share it with. It'll be like the two of us used to be, only bigger and better."

Allie could tell that Johnny didn't see things quite as clearly as she did, but that didn't matter. He'd already taken the biggest step toward coming around. Hearing that he had decided to make an effort to get along with their cousins almost made her happier than hearing that he wasn't going to side with EJ against her. EJ was in the past, after all; their new family was their future.

Her stomach growled and interrupted her thoughts.

Johnny laughed. "I'm starving, too."

Allie bounced from the bed to the floor to the couch and pulled the room service menu from the table. She hadn't planned on trying to assuage her own hunger- she hadn't been able to eat, anyway, and trying was getting old. But she didn't like the idea of Johnny going hungry at all.

They ordered fish and chips, deciding that the hotel's version would probably be better than anything they could get in Salem. They turned out to be right; the food was delicious, and Allie was sure that that wasn't just because neither she nor Johnny had eaten a proper meal in days.

She leaned back against the pillows, savoring the wonderful sensation of a full stomach and the even better sensation of having Johnny back with their family where he belonged. She tried to tell Johnny how perfect he had made her feel, but when she went to open her mouth, she fell asleep instead.

* * *

Will was surreptitiously checking his phone for the first time that day when Johnny arrived. His heart skipped a beat or two when he saw that there was more than one message from Joy.

So instead of staying around to hear about how Johnny had gotten to London- he'd be filled in sooner rather than later anyway- he wandered from his family's rooms in search of some peace and quiet.

Lucas had made it abundantly clear that day that it wasn't Will's place to make sure Johnny was properly punished or that Allie was comfortable in Johnny's presence or that Sami wasn't about to do something stupid to get back at whoever had let Johnny out of his or her sight. So Will would indulge himself.

He found a quiet corner in the restaurant downstairs and skimmed through two dozen messages, leaving Joy's for last. Half of the messages were words of encouragement; the other half were belated warnings that Johnny seemed to have slipped his minders and and was probably heading for London.

The first message from Joy was about Johnny. Will cringed. Joy didn't have much to do with any of Will's family; that meant that someone had sought her out specifically because they thought she might have a way of getting through to Will when all other messages to him and his parents went unanswered.

He couldn't stand the thought of having all eyes on him and Joy. His mother's overly gentle questions he could handle; ditto Allie's allegedly cute remarks. He could cope with his father's semi-crude backslapping. But the entire extended Brady-Horton family- a cast of thousands- could be more than a little overwhelming. He had ignored their pointed comments about his social life for years, and by now they had learned to keep gossip about why Will didn't have anyone special in his life to a dull roar.

But he'd seen the glances when Joy had shown up at the Horton Center on Christmas Eve. He heard the victorious whispers when his assortment of cousins, aunts, and uncles traipsed through the hospital. _Will is finally dating someone! Maybe the way Sami and Lucas raised him hasn't scarred him for life after all! Let's start the wedding plans, quick, before he changes his mind!_

The next message from Joy was better.

"Hi, Will. It's Joy. Please give me a call or text or email, or whatever, any time you want to. Even if it's the middle of the night- not like that matters on an intern's schedule, anyway. I hope you're doing okay. Can't wait to get a chance to see you again."

A slow smile spread over Will's face, and he played the message a second time, and then a third. There was no way around it. He liked that she wanted to see him. And he wanted to see her, too.

Then he tapped his phone and asked it to return Joy's call.

She answered on the first ring. "Will!" she exclaimed. "How are you?"

Lots of answers came to mind. He was nervous and frustrated and sad and angry and relieved and tired. He wanted to kill EJ DiMera. But he also wanted to see Joy. So he settled for telling Joy he missed her.

"I miss you, too," Joy said. "Where are you, right now?"

Will told her. Then he snapped a picture and sent it to her. The restaurant had obviously been decorated to appeal to tourists who wanted to relish the fact that they were away from home.

"It looks nice," she said.

"You like London," Will remembered.

"Yeah."

"I wish I could like it. But all I think about when I think of it is Mom leaving Dad and me for EJ, and Allie being attacked, and long-term care facilities and courtrooms and prisons."

"If there was one thing you could see while you were there, what would it be?"

"EJ DiMera in a coffin."

"Anything else?"

"Well, you. That would be an improvement."

"That can be arranged," said Joy, and Will blinked confusedly. He could hear her voice on the phone, but he could also hear her with his other ear.

He looked up and saw Joy standing in front of him with a smile on her face. Instinctively, he grabbed her and kissed her hard.

Joy was flushed with delight and even more beautiful than usual when she and Will pulled apart. "So you're happy to see me?"

"I wasn't clear?" Will asked. "I could try again." And he did, because kissing Joy was the only enjoyable thing he'd done since what seemed like forever.

"I wasn't sure if I'd be interrupting, or if you'd think I was stalking you. Sometimes I can be a little too confident."

"You're only interrupting me like I like to be interrupted." He pushed his chair back and pulled Joy down onto his lap. He would never have done that in Salem; he would have been too worried about coming face to face with a friend or family member wanting to coo about how cute they were (or, worse, Craig wanting to fire him).

"Did your brother get here all right?" Joy asked as she settled into Will's arms like she belonged there.

"A few minutes ago. Were you on the same plane?"

"I think I left after he did. Half of Salem was sending me texts asking me to look around for him."

"Where are you staying?"

"Here. Third floor."

"How did you get time off?"

Joy made a face. "I did something I'm not proud of."

"You asked Dr. Wesley?" Will could sympathize. He didn't like to ask Philip and his other family members with seats on the hospital's board to intercede for him, but sometimes he did.

"Worse. I asked Mom, and let her force Dad to fix my schedule." Joy grimaced and shoved the image of Nancy's face from her mind. _Really, Joy? That's just perfect. I was hoping you would. Usually it's best to let a man chase you, but someone as sensitive and laid back as Will... well, you'll have to take the bull by the horns. Make sure you bring that black negligee I bought you two Christmases ago.  
_  
(The worst of it was that Nancy was right about the negligee, and Joy _had_ brought it along. It was well-known within the Wesley family that neither Chloe nor Joy dressed themselves as well as Nancy dressed them.)

"Got it," said Will. At least Joy would be able to be patient with his overbearing family. Nancy was as bad as Will's five nosiest relatives combined. "So is there anything _you'd_ like to see while you're in London?"

Joy looked him straight in the eyes. She radiated concentration and determination the way she did when she was about to start a complicated operation. "I'd like to see my bed with you in it, naked."

Every thought of anything that wasn't Joy flew out of Will's head. He had been too distracted to realize how desperately he wanted this, but now that Joy had raised the possibility he was counting the seconds he could hold out before he spread her out on the table in the middle of the restaurant. "I think that can be arranged," he told her. "Soon. Soon would be really good."

Joy jumped off of his lap and led him toward her room. "Soon works for me."

He started kissing her neck before she unlocked the door, and when they staggered inside he picked her up, intending to toss her on the bed.

"No," said Joy firmly. "Sit there. I'll be out in a minute." Then she shut herself in the bathroom, leaving Will unable to protest.

When she emerged, Joy was wearing a black, lacy he-didn't-know-what. But he appreciated that Joy had put it on for him. He made an attempt to remove it, but she swatted his hand and began removing his clothes instead.

"You've had a hard few days," said Joy. "You don't have to do any work. This is all about you. Oh, and I'm on the pill and no STDs. So, nothing to worry about. Right?"

"Right," Will confirmed. He was a doctor, and he had completely forgotten about safety and protection until Joy had brought it up. He didn't like to be this out of his mind, but he liked every conceivable alternative less.

"Beautiful," he whispered to Joy as he slipped his hand over her breast and down her side. "Beautiful."

"You are, too," she said.

* * *

Later, Will stretched out blissfully on the bed as Joy, stark naked, poured water into two goblets. He was pretty sure that he should be the one foraging for refreshments, but the view was too good to give up. He told Joy so, and she grinned at him.

He couldn't believe that earlier that day he had seriously contemplated poisoning EJ DiMera. There was too much good in the world for him to risk losing it. Joy deserved to have a boyfriend who didn't think that murder was an acceptable solution to his problems. And Will deserved a life without that kind of shadow on it.

"I think you just saved my life," he told Joy as she handed him his glass of water.

"You can thank me later," said Joy. She kissed the inside of his thigh.

"I will," he promised.

_**TBC**_


	33. No Kidding

**Part 33- No Kidding**

"Yes, sir, General, sir," Sami muttered sarcastically as she let Lucas usher her out of the room before she got an explanation as to what Johnny was doing there.

"I know you want to talk to Johnny and be there for Allie," Lucas said when they were alone. "But that can wait. This can't."

Sami sighed heavily. The past few days had been full of tending to whatever couldn't wait—usually something to do with Allie's decision to testify—while everything else lingered in the background ready to explode at any moment. "All right. What do you have to tell me that's so urgent that we have to leave our traumatized children alone?"

"Well, before I forget, you should know that Franco Kelly came at my mom with a fire poker, and I shot him to death with your gun to save her life."

Sami pulled a pillow from the bed and hit Lucas with it. "No kidding. That was about a hundred years ago." Then she dropped the pillow and shoved Lucas hard in the chest. Lucas lost his balance and fell to the bed. "Why are you bringing that up now?"

Lucas rubbed his chest. "Were you working out in that coma, or something?"

Sami ignored him. "Why are you bringing that up now?" she repeated.

"Because Johnny knows. Well, he doesn't know you went to jail for it. He knows I killed him. Also that goon that was trying to kill Tony—Andre?— DiMera in the hospital, right when you were getting your voice back?"

"Why the hell would you share that with Johnny?"

"I didn't. I shared it with EJ. Johnny overheard. I didn't even know he was in this country when I said it."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

"You went to see EJ." Sami went from hot to cold in a fraction of a second.

"Twice."

"And you took our son."

"I told you, he followed me. But Johnny's not the one I'm concerned about."

"I'm afraid to ask who you are concerned about?"

Lucas looked up at Sami, who was looming over him where he sat on the bed. "Will, Sami. Will. When he found out I'd been to see EJ, he pulled out…" Lucas groped inside his jacket and removed the paper bag he'd taken from Will earlier that day. "He started telling me about how if you mix this with a sample he got from some pharmaceutical company back home, you'll have a fatal poison. Then he explained that since he doesn't have a record, I should let him be the one to kill EJ."

Sami shook her head. "You're making that up," she protested shakily, but her tone made it clear that she knew he was telling the truth. "It can't be. Our Will? _Will_, Will? Our Dr. Will? Mr. Boy Scout? Mr. Honesty? Mr. Hippocratic-freaking-oath?"

"That's the one."

Sami began to pace the length of the room. "Not that I'd mind seeing EJ dead, of course, but Will can't be the one to do it. He was always so sensitive, and so sweet! He doesn't have the personality to just do something like that and get on with his life. Not to mention that he'd probably get caught. The cops always catch people who were doing the world a favor—you spent thirteen years in prison. You'd think Will would have learned something from that."

"According to Will, he learned that I couldn't murder the man properly, so he should give it a try. He's serious, Sami. He thought it through, exactly what he was going to do, and he even got the materials." Lucas held up the bag again.

"I thought killing EJ through lots of times. I poured gasoline over him and lit the match. That doesn't mean I went through with it." She scowled. "Wish I had. If I could go back in time and drop that damn match, I would. Or I'd steal one of Dad's guns and do it that way. Less pain for the twins and Will, for Mom and John, for Steve and Kayla, for everyone. That would have been the really noble way to protect my family. Kill him, not marry him. I never would have passed that burden along to Allie if I'd done that. Now Allie thinks she's protecting everyone else by putting him in prison."

"But when did a DiMera ever stay in prison? As many people as Stefano murdered and kidnapped and tortured, he never stayed in jail for more than five minutes. Andre pulled off that whole serial killer thing, and some 'sympathetic judge' let him out right away. And now we have EJ, and with everything he's done the only charge that might stick is Allie's."

"And when he gets out, he'll come after her again. He'll come after me again, and that will mean my children. Just like when Stefano wanted my mother, he went after Carrie and Eric and me."

Remembering what Stefano had done to her family, and what EJ was continuing to do, made something snap inside Sami. Thanks to the DiMeras, her life was always teetering on a precipice. She'd lost five years with her mother here, eight with her father there, then ten with her twins…

And of course, she'd lost Lucas for thirteen long, horrible years. And now she and Lucas were having a discussion that could very well lead to the a more permanent separation.

She could sacrifice her happiness for her children; she had done it before. But she wasn't going to waste what time she had left.

Sami stopped pacing and stood over Lucas again. She put her hands on his shoulders to force him back against the mattress. Then she kissed him passionately.

As she had hoped he would, Lucas returned the kiss eagerly and flipped Sami over so that he was on top of her. Just as every fiber of Sami's being was about to catch on fire, though, Lucas pulled away and repositioned himself out of her reach.

"What was that?" Lucas asked hoarsely.

"I think you know. You sure responded like you knew."

"Talking about murder turns you on or something?" Lucas straightened his clothes, though Sami really hadn't had much of an opportunity to displace them.

"No. Thinking about how I might lose you again makes me want to take every opportunity I have now. And you want me, too, Lucas, I know you do."

"That's got nothing to do with anything," Lucas grumbled.

"Don't you think—"

"No!" said Lucas firmly. His tone left no room for argument, but Sami couldn't help but feel encouraged. After all, he had kissed her back. He hadn't denied that he wanted her. His only real objection was that he didn't like to mix sex and murder.

That was new. It wasn't like he hadn't made love to her hours after she'd married EJ and he'd shot EJ.

Her memories must have shown on her face, because Lucas demanded to know what she was thinking about.

"I was thinking…" Sami trailed off. Lucas was right; this wasn't the time to reminisce about their sex life. "I was thinking that you would have gotten away with shooting EJ the last time if they hadn't been able to trace the gun to you."

"So?"

"So next time—if there is a next time—I need to use a gun that would be traced to EJ. Anyone could have taken his own gun and turned it on him."

"There are so many things wrong with that that I don't know where to start."

"Make a list, then," said Sami coolly. "I need to get this right."

"There's a good place to start. You shouldn't kill EJ any more than Will should. For the same reasons."

Sami laughed fakely. "The same reasons? Our son, for reasons beyond our comprehension, is pretty much a goody-two-shoes. He has a conscience."

"You have a conscience, Sami."

"I tried to sell my own sister on the black market. I drugged my other sister's fiancé and had sex with him. I had a child knowing I'd slept with two men and didn't bother to find out who was the father—I just used my baby to torture my sister. I castrated a man. I beat myself up and blamed Carrie. I faked amnesia. I switched more paternity tests than I can count. I lied. I schemed. I blackmailed. I perjured myself. I manipulated."

"You're a different person now."

"I grew up, sure. But my conscience didn't bother me then and it won't bother me now. It would eat Will alive if he killed someone, even to protect his family. I'd learn to live with it. And I'd get away with it. Even if I got caught, I could plead insanity. He kept me prisoner. He left me in a coma. He took the only chance I'll ever have to see Allie and Johnny grow up. He took the only chance I'll ever have to be with Will while he went though medical school. Believe me, Lucas, playing insane won't be a stretch. And even if it were, my mother used to talk about exactly what a psychiatrist looks for when she has to evaluate whether someone can be held responsible for her actions. I can do it."

"Out of the two of us, I'm the one who's killed before."

Sami clapped Lucas on the shoulder. "Then you can give me tips."

"Where are you going to get a gun? Will was kind enough to point out that they're illegal on this side of the pond."

"There's a double false ceiling on the top floor of EJ's townhouse. Guns. Money. Sensitive documents. I doubt the ISA or the cops found it."

"You didn't tell them where to look?"

"It slipped my mind."

"You could tell them now."

"What good would it do them? You said it yourself—everything he's done, and the only thing that might put him away is Allie. And if it looks like he's going to go to prison and stay there, fine. We'll leave it at that. But if he puts himself in a position to hurt Allie again… if it looks like Will is going to make a move… we need those guns, Lucas."

Lucas sank down and buried his head in his hands. Sami sat close to him—not to proposition him, this time, but only to offer friendship and comfort. "When you and Will took off after Allie's testimony today, I was sure that you were the one who went to kill EJ and Will was the one who went to stop you. I hated thinking that you were getting yourself into that. And I know you hate thinking it about me. But this is the best thing for everyone."

"Where have I heard that before?"

"Excuse me?"

Lucas laughed humorlessly. "We haven't come very far in the last thirteen years, have we?"

"What do you mean?"

"You, telling me that you sacrificing yourself is the only way. Me, wanting to kill him. All of us puppets on EJ DiMera's string."

"There's a difference."

"More gray hair?"

"No. This time we're working together. We never really agreed last time. You didn't want me to try to manipulate EJ by marrying him. I didn't want you to shoot him. We accidentally worked against each other. But Lucas, this time we're on the same side. And we always did make an excellent team."

Lucas smiled slowly. "We really did."

"No one could stop us when we were both all the way in."

"That's true."

"So, Lucas, we let the judge rule. And if we think his decision puts Will or the twins in danger, we take matters into our own hands. Both of us. United. Are you in?" Sami held out her hand.

Lucas steeled himself. "I'm in."

They shook on it.

_**TBC**_


	34. The World Will End

**Chapter 34: The World Will End**

Sami and Lucas waited on pins and needles for the next three days. At first they were concerned that another witness might rebut Allie's testimony and Allie would be recalled to the stand. Then they were concerned that, after the trial finally closed, the judge would find that EJ was innocent and fit to be extradited to a friendly country that would grant him his freedom.

Sami's every hour was devoted to mentally playing out all possible confrontations with EJ. She was so distracted that she brushed off Belle's tearful apologies for letting Johnny out of her sight as unnecessary. She hung up the phone as soon as she possibly could and returned to her silent planning. She hardly noticed when Joy turned up out of nowhere and Will all but moved into her hotel room, although she certainly appreciated Joy's attempts at chatter and normalcy when she joined Will's family for lunch or dinner.

The fourth day dawned clear and cool. Almost before the sun rose, Lucas received word that the judge would rule within the hour.

At first, Lucas tried suggesting that the family watch coverage of the ruling on television. There was no reason to make Allie more recognizable (though a disreputable website or three had already posted her photograph). There was certainly no reason to put Allie in the same room as EJ.

Sami announced that if Lucas and Allie wanted to stay behind, they certainly could, but that she was going to be looking EJ in the face when he got what he deserved. Lucas knew what Sami thought EJ deserved, so he didn't feel comfortable letting her out of his sight.

Once they had decided to go, Lucas and Sami could hardly forbid Will, Allie, and Johnny from coming along. Will, at least, was an adult, and he was as firm as his mother in his desire to attend in person. Without parental supervision neither of the twins could be counted on to stay put.

So all five of them joined the throng in the packed courtroom awaiting the sentencing. Lucas made sure, once again, that Sami was between him and Will. Johnny sat on Lucas' other side and Allie was beside her twin.

EJ was there, unhandcuffed but carefully watched by no fewer than four guards. A hard, tight smirk twisted Lucas' lips as he noticed that the bruises on EJ's face had not yet faded. Will, Allie, and Johnny openly scowled at EJ as well, but he had no eyes for them. He looked only at Sami, who returned his gaze steadfastly, but detachedly, as if she were a scientist studying a new specimen.

An uncomfortable flame of jealousy flickered in Lucas' gut. He remembered this all too well: Sami looking at EJ, EJ looking at Sami, and Lucas not mattering much to either of them. Sami's kiss and her words— _thinking about how I might lose you again makes me want to take every opportunity I have now_—seemed long ago and far away.

It would have been sweet satisfaction to cross the room and beat EJ into oblivion, but Lucas had two sons to set an example for. There was Allie, too, but Allie hadn't seemed to need to have any examples set for her lately.

There was fanfare and ceremony and then there was the verdict.  
_  
Guilty._

Then blackness.

* * *

Lucas wrenched himself awake to the sound of sirens and profanity. A team of uniformed men and women in gas masks were hovering around scores of semiconscious men and women, taking pulses and hooking up oxygen tanks.

"Sami?" Lucas muttered thickly. She was beside him; he sensed her before he felt her and felt her before he saw her. On Sami's other side, he could hear Will gasping and calling for his parents. "All right, Will?" Lucas managed as he turned his attention to Johnny. Johnny showed no signs of regaining consciousness; someone was reaching to cover his face with an oxygen mask. Lucas groggily made to object—he wasn't sure what had happened or who the uniformed people were—but Johnny started to blink awake and Lucas had to reach beyond him to get to Allie.

But Allie wasn't there.

And Lucas was finally able to decipher the profanity as meaning that EJ was gone, too.

* * *

Allie folded her arms and glowered at EJ. EJ chuckled. "You always did look most like your mother when you were angry. That scowl, that glare, that look of death." He turned away from her dismissively and muttered instructions at his assorted staff.

Allie hadn't thought she could possibly get any angrier. She had managed to live the first thirteen years of her life without being kidnapped. Now it seemed like she was constantly in danger of being knocked unconscious and dragged away from her family against her will. That EJ somehow believed this was funny was nothing less than maddening.

"They won't let you get away with this!" said Allie almost involuntarily. She hadn't wanted to justify EJ's arrogance with a response. The silent treatment was about the only power she had. "They won't let you take me again. They'll come after you."

EJ laughed again. "That's the plan, Alicia."

Allie's heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

"This has nothing to do with you. I want to see your mother, so I summoned her by taking you."

"Like you tried to rape me because she wasn't around for you to rape anymore?"

EJ lunged toward Allie. His eyes blazed with unmitigated hatred, and Allie couldn't stop herself from cringing. She braced for the slap she was sure was coming.

But EJ pulled back before he touched Allie. "We both know that never happened."

Allie was aghast. "We both know _what_?"

"I heard your testimony. You sounded very sincere, and you obviously managed to convince the judge. But I never touched you inappropriately." His smile was suddenly less mocking, almost benign. He seemed something like the man Allie remembered from her earliest childhood, the man who had formed a happy family with her and Johnny. "You should know I forgive you, Alicia."

"Forgive me?"

"Forgive you for your lies. Perhaps you've told them so many times that you believe them. Perhaps this… unfortunate upheaval in your life has overwhelmed you. You never were very strong, and there's no shame in that. It's why I always wanted to protect you. I'd be happy to protect you again one day, if you and your mother and Johnny decide to—"

"We would never go with you if we had a choice! We never would have, she never would have."

EJ shrugged. "Today, your mother has a choice. She can choose to come to me, or she can choose not to come to me. What do you think she'll decide?"

Allie gulped.

EJ answered his own question. "She'll come to me, just like she always has."

* * *

Lucas got Johnny on his feet and somehow managed to tell Will to help Sami up. Allie's name was on all of their lips as they darted through the confusion and into the relative privacy of the street outside. The fresh air revived them all, and soon Sami and Johnny had shaken off the last of their dizziness.

"We agreed," Sami snarled at Lucas. "We're wasting time, we wasted too much time, he made his move."

"I know," Lucas told her quietly.

"We have to go now! We're losing too much time. Who knows how much of a head start—"

"What are we doing?" Will asked.

"You and Johnny are going back to the hotel. You're going straight to our rooms and locking yourselves in. You don't let anyone else in—well, maybe you'd better grab Joy and keep her with you—but no one else. No room service, no maintenance, no cops, no anyone. God knows who EJ had on his payroll to pull this thing off."

"Joy can stay with Johnny," said Will hastily. "And I'll—"

"She's my twin!" Johnny protested simultaneously. "I know her better than any of you, I know EJ better than any of you, I know this city better than any of you—"

"Johnny," said Sami, "It's because you and EJ were so close that we can't let you go after him. He'll do anything to get you back, he was always willing to do anything to have you, even before you were born."

Lucas pulled Will aside. "Your mother and I need to be able to focus. We can't do that if we're worried about you and Johnny. We like Joy, we're glad you found her, but this isn't her fight, not yet. She's not prepared. She doesn't know how deep everything goes, how far everything goes. The only person in the world Sami and I can trust with Johnny is you. Remember how it was, when it was you and me and your mom against the world? We have the twins to be a part of that, now, and maybe someday Joy. We're all a team, and the whole team has to work together. You need to keep Johnny safe so we can make Allie safe."

Will had always had a way of looking into Lucas as if he knew the wisdom of the ages. "Deal," said Will, and the one word encompassed everything that had passed between Will and Lucas since Lucas' release from prison. "I trust you."

"I love you."

Will nodded and reached for his younger brother. "Come on. We have to let them get going."

Johnny opened his mouth to continue protesting, but he seemed to realize that with Sami, Lucas, and Will allied against him, further argument would be useless.

"Get out of here before people start asking questions," Sami told her sons.

Will and Johnny set off at a dead run.

Sami and Lucas set off in the opposite direction.

* * *

"We can still beat him to the townhouse," Lucas assured Sami as they jogged through the cool morning air. "His picture's all over the place, he can't be out in public. He has to be in a car or something, and the traffic will slow him down. As long as you're right about him going to the townhouse first—"

"I'm right!" Sami returned ferociously. "I know him. He doesn't trust anyone. He wouldn't send someone to get his emergency stash before he was even out of prison."

"He has someone he trusted to pump the courtroom full of some kind of gas that knocked us all out."

"That's a lot less risky than giving him access to those papers and those guns," Sami huffed.

They didn't argue further. They saved their breath so they could run, faster and faster, though streets congested with cars and busses and cabs.

They found the townhouse surrounded by surveillance cameras and posted notices. From the corner of her eye, Sami could see that one of the notices warned that only law enforcement officials were permitted past that point. She and Lucas ignored the suggestion.

Sami reached for the front door and found it locked. She swore; Lucas wrapped his jacket around his fist and broke the glass in the front window. An alarm sounded, but Lucas and Sami ignored that suggestion, too. They forced the window up the rest of the way and climbed inside.

"ALLIE!" Lucas yelled.

"ALLIE, CAN YOU HEAR US?" Sami echoed.

There was no answer. Allie either wasn't there or couldn't speak.

"This way," Sami said. She led Lucas up three flights of stairs and set to attacking the double false ceiling.

* * *

Will and Johnny were both athletes used to running hard, so they made it back to the hotel in record time. They collected Joy and locked themselves into their room as they had promised. But neither one of them said a word for a long time after they arrived. Instead, they sat deathly still in chairs and let the sweat dry on their faces as they stared grimly at the walls.

"Not knowing is the hardest part, isn't it?" said Joy suddenly.

Will's and Johnny's heads snapped up in unison and they looked at Joy as if they had forgotten she was there.

"Never mind," said Joy hastily. "I'm still working on my bedside manner."

A tiny hint of amusement flickered over Will's features. "No, you're fine. Some patients are beyond help."

"What are you talking about?" asked Johnny irritably.

"I'm a surgeon," Joy explained. "I usually get to be the one doing something. And I'm not very good at comforting the people who have to sit around and wait, let me be the one in control."

"What do they do while you're operating?"

"Same things you're—we're—doing now. Worry. Try to reassure each other. Get updates when they can. Pray."

"We could… try that last one," Will suggested hesitantly. "Maybe."

Johnny shifted uncomfortably. "DiMeras don't pray. I wouldn't know what to do."

Will reached one hand out to Johnny and the other to Joy. Joy took Will's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world and extended her other hand to Johnny.

Johnny seemed to wage some fierce internal debate before taking Will's and Joy's hands and closing his eyes. Joy nodded at Will and closed her eyes, too.

A shiver ran through Will. His family had always prayed in times of crisis, but he had rarely been asked to speak. This experience was new and foreign.

He closed his eyes and remembered Cousin Doug fluctuating between prayer and song in the Horton Center and the Brady Pub. He remembered his mother's desperate voice in the hospital chapel and a string of priests standing at the front of St. Luke's.

"Dear Lord," he began. "Please watch over our sister Allie, and Mom and Dad, too. We've never had much of a chance to be a traditional family, and sometimes we feel angry with you, God, because it seems like every time we get close something horrible happens to take it away from us. But it's also times like these that remind us that you have blessed us with so much love in our lives, and we remember that we've been foolish. We've held grudges and we've given in to fear. We haven't appreciated your miracles because we've been greedy and we've been looking for more. Allie isn't like that. If I don't have the right to ask for your help for myself, I'll ask for it for my sister. Please bring her home safely. Amen."

* * *

Sami shoveled guns and ammunition in Lucas' direction. He selected two or three which he thought looked to be in the best condition and loaded them. Meanwhile, Sami pulled sheaves of documents—fake passports, cashier's checks, affidavits, photographs—from the hidden space and dumped them on the floor. From her pocket, she withdrew a book of matches she had pilfered from the pub at the hotel.

"Watch it," Lucas warned. "There are explosives up there."

"I'll be careful," Sami promised as she lit a match. "But I'll be damned if EJ gets any use out of these. Even if he kills us both, I'm going to make it as hard as possible for him to get out of England."

Lucas stuffed a gun into the waist of his slacks and handed another to Sami, methodically demonstrating how to use it as he passed it to her.

"Let's hide the others," he suggested. "Don't want EJ to get any use out of those, either." Sami nodded, and they carried armloads of weapons downstairs and looked for a hiding place.

"Oh, no," Lucas murmured as he reached the room that must have been Allie's. There was a computer and a television; there were books and DVDs and stuffed animals and dolls. It looked like the bedroom of a well-loved little girl from an affluent family. But this was where EJ had held Allie prisoner.

The ISA, or perhaps the police, had marked off a section of wall. In the middle of the crime tape was a hole that had evidently been hidden by a mirror.

"The bastard was spying on her," Lucas said. Every word made his rage stronger. "He was watching her undress, he was watching her—"

"Don't think about that now," said Sami. She pushed her load of guns and explosives under Allie's bed. Lucas followed suit.

They had just hidden the stash when they heard footsteps pounding on the stairs above them. They exchanged a last look; then, spontaneously, a last kiss.

"I love you," said Sami as the footsteps reversed course and began their trip down the attic stairs. "Whatever I say, whatever I do, I have always loved you and I always will."

"I love you, too," said Lucas. The words rolled easily off his tongue. After all, he had nothing to lose; the world was about to end.

Lucas raised his gun and nearly pulled the trigger as soon as he saw movement outside the door. He stopped himself just in time. EJ had Allie pinned to his chest.

"Well, well, well." EJ sneered at Lucas and leered at Sami. "It's just as I told you, Alicia. Your mother always comes running to me."

"You took my daughter," said Sami. Hate dripped from her every syllable.

EJ squeezed Allie hard. Allie moaned softly. "Tell me you're jealous and you wish to take Alicia's place."

"I'm jealous and I wish to take Allie's place."

EJ laughed loudly. "Odd man out again, huh, Lucas?" He thrust Allie in Lucas' direction and in the same movement grabbed Sami. "Sad how Lucas is always the also-ran, isn't it, Samantha? He's not even the leading man in his own life."

"Yes, Lucas," said Sami, though her eyes never left EJ. "Why don't you take Allie and leave? EJ and I have something we need to discuss."

_**TBC**_


	35. In Fire

**Chapter 35: In Fire**

There was no way in hell Lucas was going to leave Sami alone with EJ. EJ was always able to make her believe that he was well-intentioned and misunderstood. Sami always ended up willing to marry EJ, or move in with EJ, or let EJ raise her children.

There was no way in hell Lucas was going to leave Sami alone with EJ. EJ was dangerous. EJ had almost killed Sami more than once. EJ was supposed to be in prison for what he had done to Allie.

There was no way in hell Lucas was going to leave Sami alone with EJ. He had spent thirteen years behind bars because for shooting EJ, but he had never been able to reap the benefits of his actions. He looked at the peephole in Allie's bedroom wall and relished the feeling of his gun.

"I see Lucas and Alicia want to stay and watch," said EJ.

"Allie," began Lucas, "go downstairs and—"

"She leaves with you or she doesn't leave," said EJ with finality.

"I told you to go, Lucas," Sami repeated. "EJ and I want to be alone, and we don't need a child hanging around."

"Mom?" whispered Allie.

Allie's voice triggered something inside Lucas. Instead of fear and rage, he felt confidence and trust. Anxiety was still there, too, and frustration, but he knew what he had to do. He couldn't take any chance of Allie getting caught in the crossfire or grabbed by one of EJ's men. Sami didn't want to take that chance either.

"Let's go, Allie."

Lucas and Allie walked silently from the house and into the sunlight. They strolled to a shopping district and planted themselves in a crowded café, just a father and a daughter enjoying a leisurely morning.

* * *

"Are they really gone?" Sami asked EJ when she could no longer hear Lucas' and Allie's footsteps. "Do you have someone waiting to stop them?"

"Why does that matter, darling? As long as they aren't here to interrupt us, who cares where they are?"

"Allie is my daughter. I don't want her to overhear any of this."

"Alicia is very impressionable," mused EJ thoughtfully. "You do know that I never really—I didn't do what she said I did."

Sami pointed at the hole in the wall. "Then why did you need that?"

EJ laughed humorlessly and released his grip on Sami. He turned away from her. Sami eyed the broad expanse of his back and clutched the gun concealed in her coat pocket. But some sixth sense whispered _wait_. She was sure she would get a better shot. She wanted to give Lucas and Allie as much time as possible to get away.

And on a visceral level, she wanted—needed—to hear this. If she was going to take things into her own hands, she had to be _sure,_ not just for Lucas and her children, but for herself.

"It's really your fault," he said after a long pause.

She stroked the hidden gun with one finger and resisted the urge to go after him with her bare hands instead. "How so?" she asked neutrally.

"You were the one who first suggested it, that night when Alicia had a fever and we were bathing her, comforting her, as parents do. You left to get the baby aspirin from Gianni's room. When you came back in I was washing her legs and you insisted I was—you accused me of fondling her. The idea had never entered my head, but when you left us—"

"I was in a coma! A coma you put me in!"

EJ shrugged. "That argument was as much you as it was me, and you know that, darling. We were always so much alike, and even though that was what drew us together, sometimes we were so very… combustible."

Sami tried hard not to look at Allie's bed and give away what was concealed there.

"I did feel guilty, of course," EJ continued. "Terribly guilty. I missed you. If I hadn't had the twins, I might have given up on life."

"Tragic," said Sami drily.

"But I had to go on for our children. Your children."

"About that. Did you always know Johnny wasn't your son?"

"Gianni will always be my child. Biology doesn't matter. That's why you named our son after John Black—he wasn't your biological father, after all, but he loved you and he raised you just the same."

"But biologically!" It was getting harder and harder for Sami to contain her anger. She had never been noted for her impulse control, but now everything depended upon it. "Biologically, did you always know—"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters! What if Johnny had had a medical condition, and we had no way of knowing his family's medical history?"

"That didn't happen. If it had, yes, I would have made certain that the physicians had the correct information."

"So you knew," said Sami, and it felt like a sucker punch. She wasn't sure why she was so affected. She had believed EJ when he'd promised that their marriage of convenience would protect her family. She had believed EJ when he had told her he was paralyzed after their wedding. She had believed EJ when he had told her that he was at risk of being deported. Each time, EJ had lied and she had found herself more tightly bound to him.

"What I knew—what I knew was that I was meant to be that beautiful boy's father. I risked so much so I would have the chance. I risked ruining our friendship forever when I pushed you to consummate our love before you were ready. Unfortunately, I was unable to be present at the birth—don't worry, I forgive you, I know it wasn't your fault Lucas played that juvenile trick with the handcuffs. But when I stood in the nursery in the hospital, looking at Alicia and Gianni... it was an overwhelming feeling of pride, and fulfillment, that I never felt before or since. A nurse asked me which one was mine, and I told her 'does it matter?' It had nothing to do with DNA. I knew I loved them both."

"So why didn't you have the tests fixed for both of them?"

"It would have looked suspicious. They were tested twice before they were born, once by my father's people and once by the Hortons. Those tests showed that their biological father was Lucas. It was more expedient to let everyone believe that only Alicia was tested before they were born. I knew, and you knew, that I was meant to be Gianni's father, but I'm sure Lucas would have interfered."

Bile rose in Sami's throat. "What makes you think I knew that you were meant to be Johnny's father?"

"You didn't challenge the test. You took my word for it. You weren't even in Salem when the results came down, but you were eager to believe me because it was what you wanted. What we both wanted."

"What we both wanted," Sami echoed numbly. What if she had wanted this, somehow, subconsciously? Had she been so intrigued by EJ that she had been willing to steal a son from Lucas for the second time in her life?

"You never were able to admit what you wanted," said EJ nostalgically. "That night in the car, you preferred to call it rape rather than admit that you were attracted—"

The numbness left Sami as quickly as it had come. "God damn you, EJ!" she shouted. "YOU BASTARD, YOU RAPED ME!"

EJ circled her like a wild animal stalking its prey. "You always were deliciously beautiful when you were angry."

"Angry doesn't begin to cover it! I am furious, I am livid, I am repulsed, I am—"

EJ moved toward her. She forced herself to stand her ground. EJ placed his hands on her face. She forced herself to let him. EJ kissed her passionately. She forced herself to kiss back, all the while remembering that he had done the same thing to her precious, sensitive Allie in this very room.

Sami pulled the gun from her pocket and shot EJ in the groin.

Naturally, their kiss broke off shortly thereafter.

EJ fell to the floor with a shrieking howl of pain.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he gasped as a dark, wet stain spread across his trousers and onto Allie's bedroom rug.

"Did I ever tell you about Alan Harris?" Sami asked.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for a pop quiz Damn you, Samantha, yes, Alan Harris was the boy who attacked you when you were a teenager."

"When I was just a couple of years older than Allie is now. He was a lot like you."

EJ writhed on the floor. "You know I didn't rape you. That was something you said because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that you cheated on Lucas—"

"That was exactly what he said. If you didn't want it, you wouldn't have come here wearing a short skirt. You can't handle what you did, you're confused and upset, so you're pretending it's rape. That's what Alan did to me, that's what you did to me, and that's what you're doing to Allie when you say she's _sensitive_ and _impressionable_ and not sure what happened."

EJ lunged at Sami and made a grab at her leg. She sidestepped neatly and pointed her gun at him once more.

"Did I ever tell you about my friend Jamie?"

"Can we end this nonsense, please?"

"When Jamie and I were kids—this is around the same time Alan raped me—her father molested her. Jamie's mother blamed Jamie. She thought it was partly Jamie's fault, what her father did. She couldn't quite believe Jamie. So Jamie moved out. That was part of why at first I couldn't tell anyone what Alan had done to me, watching people not believe Jamie. I always remembered what Jamie's father did, and how her mother made it worse. So don't think for a second that I would ever take your word over my Allie's."

Sami leaned closer to survey the damage done by the bullet. "But you won't be raping anyone else, now, will you?"

"Bloody insane," EJ muttered. His face had set into tight lines of pain.

"If I am, it's what you made me."

"If you're going to kill me, get on with it."

"I will," said Sami. "But first I'm going to tell you that I did not want you to rape me, I did not want you to be Johnny's father, I did not want to marry you, and I did not want to come to England with you. You held my husband and my children over my head. You didn't give me a choice. I always chose Lucas and our children. Never you."

EJ gagged; Sami wasn't sure if it was a physical reflex or a comment on her expression of love for Lucas. "What a waste. Vibrant, beautiful, devious, and you'd rather chase that dull, judgmental clod Lucas than be with a man who appreciates everything you are."

Sami raised the gun and pointed it at EJ's heart. "Any last words?" she asked. She caught sight, once more, of the peephole. Blood roared in her ears and her vision tinged with red as she imagined Allie alone and frightened.

"I am a phoenix. I will never die. You will never be able to kill that part of me that's in you, or in Alicia, or in my Gianni. You will never be able to go back to your dull little life with Lucas without thinking of me, without remembering that—whatever you say—you did choose me over him time after time. And I'll look forward to seeing you at our reunion in hell."

"You hurt my children. No one hurts my children, EJ."

He opened his mouth to retort, never one to let someone else have the last word, but she lunged at him, held the gun to his head, and squeezed the trigger in one motion.

The gun slipped from her hand and a rush of dizziness overwhelmed her. She slid to the blood soaked floor and dragged herself as far away from the body as possible.

She didn't like blood. How she was the daughter of one doctor and the mother of another, Sami would never understand.

She tried to make herself take slow, deep breaths. "Get a grip, Sami," she said aloud. "You started this; you have to finish it."

She'd started it more than thirteen years before when she'd met EJ in the cabin and failed to drop the match.

_"Why? Why did you do this to me? I mean, I actually thought we were friends. I really did care about you. Obviously you didn't care about me at all. I was just a means to an end. You just wanted to make your daddy proud. For that... for that, you raped me. You used the fact that I loved Lucas so much to force me to have sex with you. And you've been torturing me ever since. Lucas loves me. And he has forgiven me so many times. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve any of this. He is my future, my hope, and my baby's hope. And I am not gonna let you destroy that future. This is for John and my mother. This is for my Uncle Steve and my Aunt Kayla, and for Max and Stephanie and my sister Belle and Shawn and everyone else that you have tortured. I hope you burn in hell."_

But she would go to hell, too, if she did this. She didn't know if the baby she was carrying had been fathered by Lucas or by EJ. She might be facing a lifetime of looking a child in the face and knowing that she had taken away his chance to know his father. She had almost done that to Will, and Will and Lucas were so close, and Will had helped Lucas grow from the brat she'd met as a teenager to the wonderful man he was now.

Lucas had been her friend, and then he had done terrible things to her, and now he had matured into a great father, fiancé, son, grandson, nephew, brother, friend…

Once she had stood over a semiconscious Lucas and wished that he would die. It would have been the biggest mistake of her life.

The match blew out.

Celeste swept around her.

"Samantha, what is taking so long?"

"I can't. Celeste, I can't do it."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yes. It means he owns me now. He won. Oh, God."

God, indeed. God hadn't meant her to be a murderer. 

"There was no other way," she reminded herself as all her old doubts and fears and moral codes reasserted themselves. "No other way."

She found the book of matches; it took four or five tries before she was able to light one. "They'll need to scrape what's left of you up with a spoon to get enough DNA to identify you," she told EJ's corpse without really looking at it. Despite what she'd done, she couldn't bring herself to accept that the ruined body before her was EJ, the man who had once been her friend, the man who had raised her children. "They won't notice the bullet holes."

EJ's clothing was soaked through with blood and sweat, and one match after another fizzled out.

"No gasoline in your stash, EJ?" Sami asked. "I can't just start with that stuff under the bed, I'd blow myself up, too."

Hastily, she grabbed a stack of books from Allie's shelf and ripped the pages from the spines. She built a small, hot fire between the body and the bed.

Then, hoping it worked, she ran.

She was a block away when she heard the explosion. She fell to her knees, not so much from force as from shock.

She remembered standing outside the smoking cabin with Aunt Kayla. _"I wanted to kill Stefano, but I just couldn't do it,"_ Kayla admitted. _"I took an oath to do no harm."_

She remembered sitting in a hospital room, pregnant with her twins, and whispering to her mother that she wanted to end things with the DiMeras, permanently. Marlena told her how many times she had wanted to hurt Stefano and EJ, to put an end to the suffering. _"But,"_ said Marlena, her voice laden with meaning, _"we don't do that."_

"God, I did it," Sami whispered. "God, I'm going to hell."

But she could take an eternity of torments, she reminded herself, if it meant that he children would be safe.

She walked the way she thought Lucas and Allie must have. Would they be waiting for her at the hotel? Had they somehow been detained?

_Had they still been in the house?_

Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

_I can't fall apart like this, not now, _she reminded herself. _Not out in public, a block away. Lucas got her out. Lucas's job was to get her out, and my job was to make sure she never went back. He trusted me enough to leave and I trusted him enough to end it._

But she couldn't make herself move. Her limbs were as unresponsive as they had been when she'd emerged from the coma to enter a new world where her twins were half-grown and Lucas had grown used to her absence.

She remembered how she had focused herself throughout her grueling physical therapy.

"I love you, Allie," she said, and she pulled herself into a sitting position.

"I love you, Johnny," she said, and she stood.

"I love you, Will," she said, and she took her first step.

_I love you, Lucas, _she completed the thought as she tried to make herself look as normal as possible. That was no small task.

Sami was so overwhelmed by thoughts and memories and the heaviness of what she had done that she would never have seen Lucas and Allie had they not seen her. The two of them appeared from thin air—or perhaps from a café—and placed themselves beside Sami.

Allie asked the obvious question. "Where's EJ?"

"He's never going to hurt you again. Not you or anyone else."

Allie raised wide, liquid eyes to look at Sami. "Is he dead?"

Sami pulled Lucas and Allie into a hard, protective three-way hug. "Yes, Baby Girl. He's dead."

_**TBC**_


	36. Good

**Chapter 36: Good**

Johnny let out a desperate, strangled, almost inhuman cry when Allie opened the door to the hotel room. The noise cut through Sami's fear and reminded her that she had made the only possible decision.

_He brought them here. He stole Johnny. He would have raped Allie. He broke up their family. He would have destroyed them again and again, like he did to me. Like his father did to my mother. _

Johnny and Allie hugged each other hard, with Johnny asking over and over again if  
Allie was really all right. Sami found her arms full of Will. Will reached for Lucas next, but Sami refused to let go, and the three of them fell into something like a huddle.

"Did you do it?" Will whispered hoarsely.

"We did it," Lucas replied just as roughly.

"We brought your sister home," Sami clarified after an appropriate pause. She knew that Will had to know the truth, on some level, but she was hardly going to make him an accessory after the fact by confirming his suspicions in no uncertain terms. When she thought about it, she was still a little irritated at Lucas for telling a teenage Will that he had shot EJ weeks before he confessed to the police.

"Good," said Will, and from the way his voice cracked Sami could tell that he understood perfectly. "I wish—I wish I could have—"

"We couldn't have done it without you, Bud," Lucas told him. "You did good. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is step back and let someone else be in control. That kind of trust…"

"That kind of trust isn't easy for any of us," Sami murmured. "But we all pulled it off today."

"Is it… over?" Will wanted to know.

Sami and Lucas exchanged a long, pained look. "I doubt it," Sami admitted. "But if we stick together, we're through the worst part." _Until eternal damnation, that is. _"If we explain that we were so worried about Allie… that everything was because we had to find Allie… we didn't think of anything else…"

"Well, we didn't!" Will snapped, as if he were already defending his actions to the investigators who would surely come to interview him sooner rather than later. His head shot up; his eyes blazed, then softened when he saw Joy trying to slip unnoticed from the room.

Sami followed Will's gaze. "Will, why don't you walk Joy back to her room?" She glanced next at the twins. "You two catch up. I need to talk to your Dad, but we'll all… talk about what's next in half an hour. All right?"

Allie and Will acknowledged Sami; Johnny did not. Nonetheless, he was relieved when Sami and Lucas and Will and Joy left, and he was alone with Allie. He had a sick feeling that he already knew exactly what had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to ask a virtual stranger to confirm it.

"Allie?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't make him ask the question out loud.

Allie's round face filled with pity. "You should sit down."

Johnny didn't need her instruction. His knees had gone weak and he might have fallen if he hadn't sat. Allie sat beside him. "There was an explosion at… at our old home. EJ was there. There's no way he survived."

Johnny hadn't thought it was possible to get dizzier, but it was. When he'd seen EJ's battered body in prison, he'd nearly fainted, and now he was in danger of that again. Each breath was painful, fast, and shallow. He was suddenly cold and started to shiver.

Allie pulled a blanket around Johnny's shoulders and put a bottle of water in his hand. That made Johnny feel worse instead of better. Allie had been knocked out and kidnapped by a man who had tried to rape her, and she was the one comforting Johnny because he was upset that her abductor was dead. Try as he might, Johnny couldn't quite resolve the image of Father, who had played with him and talked with him and tucked him into bed at night, with the image of EJ DiMera, the man who had held his mother hostage and attacked his sister. And now Father and EJ were both dead. The last time Johnny had seen EJ, he had hurt him, but the last time Johnny had seen Father, he had hurt him, too. Now he was going to see EJ or Father again.

"Are you okay?" Johnny asked Allie when he was able to speak, even though he had already asked her half a dozen times.

"Don't worry about me. I'm worried about you."

"It's good that he's dead," Johnny said, but he didn't mean it. "I loved him," he added, and that part he meant.

"I know."

"Do you hate me for that?"

Allie shook her head solemnly. "You're my twin. I could never hate you. You thought he was your father for most of your life. It wouldn't be natural if you didn't miss him."

Johnny couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"Do you want to talk about him?"

"No." He couldn't talk about Father without talking about EJ, and he couldn't ask Allie to talk about EJ. He couldn't put his thoughts into words, anyway. The voices and images and guilt and grief were too tangled up.

"If you want to sometime—talk about the good things—remember how we were happy with him once, we can."

Hearing Allie sound sweet and attentive and earnest was starting to get on Johnny's nerves. He knew that she had every reason to hate EJ, but she seemed strangely unconcerned with the knowledge that her dad—their dad—Lucas—had probably done the killing. Wasn't murder supposed to be worse than rape?

"Doesn't it bother you at all?" Johnny asked finally. "Knowing Lucas was the one who killed him?"

"He wasn't," said Allie, with surprise.

"But he killed people before."

"That was in self defense. And as far as I'm concerned, this would have been self defense too, if he'd done it. But EJ took me back to the townhouse so he could get some things he needed, and because he knew Mom would go there looking for him. Mom and Dad were there. Dad took me and left, and when we left EJ was alive. Dad was with me from then on, until he left just now. He couldn't have done it, unless he set the house on some kind of timer to explode and then left Mom there. But we didn't expect EJ to do what he did at the sentencing, so I don't know how Dad could have planned—"

"So it was Mom?" Johnny found it harder to get outraged about that, even if he did miss Father so much that he couldn't even bring himself to touch the pain yet. After all, EJ had raped her and held her captive and tried to steal her children.

"I don't know. He had… a couple of people with him who drove over with us. One of them could have turned on him because he wanted the guns or the money or something. Or he could have blown himself up, rather than go to prison?"

"Or it could have been Mom."

"He took so much away from her," Allie pleaded.

"I miss him anyway."

"Yeah. I know. But you should talk to Mom. She knows more about what happened. What happened today and what happened to make EJ pretend you were his son. You might feel better if you just tried to talk to her about EJ."

"I will," Johnny agreed.

Allie and Johnny embraced again.

* * *

The minute there was a locked door between Sami and her children, she threw her arms around Lucas' neck and kissed him deeply. As Lucas began to respond, she shoved his coat to the floor and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Wait, wait, wait." Lucas caught her quickly moving hands and pinned them to her sides. "What are you doing?"

"Let me keep at it, and you'll figure it out eventually," Sami pleaded, desperately trying to free herself.

"Murder turns you on, or something?"

"No!" Sami snapped, and burst into furious tears. She would have fallen to the floor had Lucas not caught her and placed her on the bed.

As long as she was on the bed anyway, she decided to make use of it. Still teary and trembling with fear and anger, she reached for Lucas' belt and unfastened it. Then she unzipped his fly.

Unzipping a man's fly was, to Sami, one of the most emotionally overwhelming parts of sex—almost as much so as the moment of entry and the moment of climax. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she would always remember her first time with Alan (no matter how many times she told herself that that didn't really count as her first time). Alan had pinned her down as he'd unzipped his fly and removed his penis. EJ had pinned her down with words instead of hands, but he, too, had eagerly removed his own penis from his clothing. When Sami did the unzipping herself, she knew that she was making a choice. She was choosing this man, and trusting that he chose her, too.

Lucas swatted her hands away again. "Stop that!"

"Why are you being so difficult?" Sami demanded. She could feel Lucas starting to respond to her. He wanted her. He'd even said he loved her back at the townhouse.

She ripped off her own shirt and slacks, noticing once more the blood that stained them. "It's his blood, his blood, look at it, Lucas!"

Lucas covered Sami's mouth with his hand. "The twins are next door. Would you like to make them accessories after the fact? Would you like our neighbors in the next room over to hear you?"

Sami began to cry again, but when Lucas moved his hand, she spoke in a low voice. "Believe me when I tell you, the legal system is the least of my worries. They'll buy it when I tell them I was insane, I was protecting Allie. And if they don't, they don't. I'll go to prison. It will be worth it to know that EJ will never put his hands on Allie or Johnny or Will again."

"So you're not concerned about the police or prison," said Lucas skeptically. At any other time he might have looked comical standing there with his shirt mostly unbuttoned and his pants hanging half off. But Sami was only concerned with the extent to which Lucas did not get it. "Then what?"

_"What?" _she hissed. "I killed a man. On purpose, after I thought about it for days. I killed a man who used to be my friend, who I thought was Johnny's father! It's not like I had a choice, but I hate myself and God hates me, too."

"What are you talking about? God doesn't hate you."

"Yes, He does. He's going to punish me. So before I begin my eternal torment, I'd like to make love with you."

"Sami, I don't think this is a good idea—"

"Why not? What if it's our only chance? What if we're about to be separated again, and this time it's permanent?"

"That's not going to happen."

"Even if it doesn't…." Sami trailed off. She had distracted herself for a few moments by trying to seduce Lucas, but now that she knew that her seduction had failed, she felt nothing but numb. She wandered back to the bed, virtually naked, and collapsed onto it, curling onto her side. She still couldn't stop herself from shaking.

She didn't look up or respond when she felt the bed shift under Lucas' weight and then felt Lucas' body close against her own. "Shh. It's all right," he murmured, but she felt nothing.

"I want…" Sami began, but she couldn't finish the thought. It didn't matter what she wanted. She had decided to kill a man and she had gone ahead and done it. People like her didn't deserve happiness. They didn't deserve to feel. She didn't deserve anything but to remember EJ's mangled corpse and the way EJ had always rocked baby Johnny in his arms.

"What?" Lucas whispered. She knew his breath was on her neck, but she couldn't feel it. She would have known his voice anywhere, but this time it didn't make her heart melt.

"Sami, are you there?" Lucas tried. But Sami wasn't there. She was watching EJ bleed.

"Sami, the police aren't going to wait for long. Neither are Will and the twins. You need to come back," Lucas prompted.

His warm body moved away from hers, but she couldn't protest. She shouldn't have anything good.

Lucas gently turned Sami onto her back and bent down to kiss her. The kiss sent jolts of heat through the numbness, and Sami guiltily opened her eyes.

"So beautiful," Lucas whispered as if to himself. Then his steady gaze met Sami's wavery one. "The kiss always wakes the princess, right?"

"I'm hardly a princess."

Lucas kissed her again. "I think you are."

Sami lifted one hand and ran it down Lucas' shoulder, over his back, and up and down his side as he had always liked.

"You need to forget for a few minutes, don't you? You need a break before we take the next step? That's why you were attacking me like that?"

"Wasn't attacking," Sami mumbled. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Lucas repeated.

"I remember when the DiMeras made us believe my mom had killed half of Salem. I was so… numb after so much of my family died, you know? And that one night, I started drinking, and then I went kind of crazy, and then you had to hit me a little because I was hysterical…"

"Don't remind me."

Sami's eyes filled with fresh tears. "But then, when we got back from the police station, that night… you remember that night?"

"Very well."

"You were the only one who could make me feel, make me feel anything, let alone feel good."

Lucas sighed, and the sound broke Sami's heart. "We could do that again," Lucas conceded at last.

"No. Not if you don't want to. I thought you really did, but if you don't, we shouldn't."

Lucas kissed her collarbone and then her stomach. "I want to."

"I heard that sigh. I think people in Salem heard that sigh."

"I sighed because this isn't the way I imagined it. But now that I think about it, that doesn't mean it isn't right."

"You imagined this?"

"So many times." He rubbed his hips against hers.

"I love you, Lucas." Sami pulled Lucas into one more kiss before wrapping her legs around his body.

"I love you, too."

_**TBC**_


	37. Better

**Part 37- Better**

_Our Father, Who art in heaven  
Hallowed be Thy Name;_

Sami thought, and Lucas agreed, that it would be best to call the police before the police came looking for them. Unless the surveillance cameras at EJ's house had been destroyed by the explosion and didn't send their signals to a police station somewhere, there was irrefutable evidence that they had paid EJ an unsolicited visit.

_Thy kingdom come,  
Thy will be done,  
on earth as it is in heaven._

Sami had dropped her gun, but Lucas was still in possession of his. Worse still was the matter of Sami's bloody clothes. There was too much physical evidence to hide.

_Give us this day our daily bread,  
and forgive us our trespasses,  
as we forgive those who trespass against us;_

And of course, Allie knew perfectly well that they had been at EJ's house and talking to EJ mere moments before EJ's demise. Sami certainly wasn't going to ask Allie to perjure herself, especially not after what Allie had gone through already.

_and lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from evil._

When Lucas, Will, and Allie turned on their phones, they found a variety of messages from ISA officers, London police officers, Salem police officers, and courtroom security officers. Lucas suggested that he call Inspector Robert Smyth, who had originally arranged for Allie to come to London and testify, while Sami called her Uncle Bo in case their friends at the Salem PD could be of help.

_Amen._

They turned on the television while they awaited Inspector Smyth. Half the channels were interviewing scientists about the composition of the gas released into the courtroom, and discussing how the anti-terrorist units had really responded very well. There had been no casualties. The other half of the channels showed the smoking ruins of EJ's townhouse.

_Hail Mary,  
Full of Grace,  
The Lord is with thee._

"Hotter than hell," said one reporter cheerfully. "Some would say that's fitting." Sami demanded, rather too harshly, that someone change the channel. Will tightened his lips and wordlessly obeyed.

_Blessed art thou among women,  
and blessed is the fruit  
of thy womb, Jesus._

"I don't want any of you to do anything but tell the absolute truth about what you know," Lucas told his children. "Just don't speculate about things you don't know. That's more trouble than it's worth. You know why we ran out of the courtroom, you know why we turned our phones off, you know Allie got back here safely. But none of you saw what happened to EJ, did you?"

_Holy Mary,  
Mother of God,  
pray for us sinners now,  
and at the hour of death._

Inspector Smyth and his colleagues arrived more quickly than Sami would have liked. Sami was separated from Lucas and their children for questioning. She told herself that it would be good practice for their eternal separation.  
_  
Amen.  
_  
In the back of her mind, she continued to pray, as she had started to do almost unconsciously as soon as she and Lucas rejoined their children.

_Eternal Father,  
I offer You the Body and Blood,  
Soul and Divinity  
of Your dearly beloved Son,_

She explained how she and Lucas, and Will and Johnny, had panicked when Allie and EJ vanished. Perhaps the strange gas had made their anxiety worse. She and Lucas had sent Will and Johnny to lock themselves away safely—if EJ had found a way to take Allie, he might well be looking for a way to take Johnny. If EJ had been able to escape the courtroom, he must surely have had some security officer on his payroll—her family had not responded to any calls because they did not know whom to trust.

_Our Lord Jesus Christ,  
in atonement for our sins  
and those of the whole world._

She and Lucas ran to EJ's townhouse because she remembered the materials he had kept there beneath the double false ceiling. She thought EJ would run there first. No, she hadn't told the ISA about the false ceiling—she had forgotten about it until her fear for her daughter had triggered the need for the information. Surely she would have told the ISA had she remembered; hadn't she been the one to list out EJ's hideouts, and facilitated his capture in the first place?

_For the sake of His sorrowful Passion  
have mercy on us  
and on the whole world._

She had begun to lie, even as she prayed. The incongruity was not lost on her.

_Amen._

Sami's mind wandered to Colleen, the one who had started all of this. Colleen had planned to be a nun. Had she, too, prayed as she committed sin after sin in the name love?

_I believe that the teaching of the Holy Catholic Church is God's teaching, without exception._

Colleen's sins had visited pain on her family year after year. Before her death, she had claimed that she had tried to protect her family. Would Sami's attempt at protection be as counter-productive as Colleen's? She and Colleen looked so much alike. Had she fulfilled some prophecy to act like Colleen, too?

_O God, by Your merciful grace, grant that I may persevere in the one true Catholic faith throughout the remainder of my life, no matter what sufferings and trials may fall upon me._

Sami told Inspector Smyth all about how she and Lucas had burned EJ's papers and hidden the weapons so he couldn't use them. She told him how Lucas still had a gun—he had never fired it, but had taken it for protection and had held onto as he escorted Allie from the building when she and EJ arrived.

_Lord Jesus Christ, by your merciful prayers, sufferings and death on the Cross, grant that all those who have fallen away from the fullness of faith may repent, confess, do penance and humbly return to complete faith in every teaching of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.  
_  
She and EJ had argued. She didn't remember much—she had been so angry, looking at that peephole in Allie's room. They had struggled. She had clawed and scratched and bit, even drawn a little blood—there was some on her clothes. Then she ran. He was alive then, yes, of course he was. She had only just been reunited with her children and the man she had always considered to be her husband. She wasn't going to kill EJ, though if he was really dead, she certainly wasn't sorry.  
_  
Heal my wounds, O Lord, if they are the wounds that offend You._

The inspectors left, taking along Lucas' gun and Sami's clothes. They suggested that the family would not be allowed to return to America for a few more days at least.

_Deepen my wounds, O Lord, if they are the wounds that glorify You._

Sami told Lucas, Will, and the twins what she had told Inspector Smyth. She watched Lucas carefully, and saw no sign that he had told the investigators anything in conflict with what she had said. Really, she had only lied twice. She had lied about when she remembered the false ceiling. And she had lied about murdering EJ.

_Amen._

* * *

Johnny stood beside Sami, awkward and oddly delicate. "May I speak to you privately, please?" he asked.

Sami cringed. When she had first met EJ, she had loved the way his accent made the most mundane statement sound formal, intelligent, and charming. Johnny didn't have EJ's blood in his veins, but he had been raised in EJ's image, and that was evident in everything from his tone of voice to his posture to his taste in clothing.

EJ had been right when he'd promised that he would never die because he lived on in his Gianni.

"Of course, honey." Sami put her hand on Johnny's shoulder and gave it a small caress as she guided him into the next room.

"What's going on?" Sami asked when they were seated side by side on the couch—the same couch on which Allie had cried herself sick after testifying against EJ.

A shadow of bemusement crossed Johnny's face.

"Okay, so a lot's going on," Sami answered herself. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I know we aren't supposed to talk much about what happened today—"

"The police just don't want us getting a story straight if we were in some kind of conspiracy to commit murder. But we weren't in a conspiracy, so there's nothing to get straight. Your dad told you to tell the truth, right?"

Johnny shrugged. Even though Sami didn't know him well, she knew the gesture was unlike him. "We can talk about anything you want."

"All right," said Johnny, but he was obviously rethinking his decision to say anything.

"How are you feeling?" Sami tried.

The bemusement returned. "Like I'm about to explode."

Sami managed not to flinch at the choice of phrase. "What can I do to help?"

"You said you didn't remember that much about what you said to EJ."

"That's true."

"Do you remember if, well, did he say anything about me at all?"

This, Sami should have seen coming. She couldn't resist pulling Johnny into a hug—bone crushing hugs, he'd called them as a toddler—and Johnny accepted it stiffly. "Yes, he talked about you. We talked about you. It's about the only thing we ever had in common, how much we both loved you." _That, and we're both murderers and we're both going to hell. _

"When did he find out that I wasn't his son? Biologically? Do you know?"

Sami nodded. "That was my question, too. He always knew. He fell in love with you the first time he saw you, so he had the tests switched. I think he almost… almost forgot that you weren't his biologically. To him, you were his son, and that was it."

"Hmm. I thought maybe he didn't find out until after everything happened with Allie, and that's why he didn't try to find me after I went to America, at least find out if I was okay."

"No. He wanted you so much—I'm sure he was desperate to see you, but he was trying not to get arrested. He loved you, in his way. Allie, too. He only thought he could get away with faking the paternity results on one of you under the circumstances. I'm not sure whether he chose you because you were the boy who could carry on the DiMera name, or if he stood in the nursery and went eeny-meeny-miney-moe, or if he told his lackey to surprise him."

Johnny digested that for a moment. "He wasn't always a bad father. Before the thing with Allie, I mean."

"I know that. When you were babies, he was wonderful with you. If he hadn't been holding me hostage, and if he hadn't tried to kill half my family, I would have liked him. I did like him, once."

"Allie said she thought it would be all right to remember the good things about him."

"Allie is very smart." Sami forced herself to smile. "Like her brothers."

"So he raped you, but you don't mind?"

"I mind that he raped me," said Sami, just to be clear, even though she knew that wasn't what Johnny meant. "No, I don't mind that you loved him and that you're mourning him and that you want to remember the good about him. He did terrible things to all of us, but whatever there was that was good in him… you brought it out. Everyone… we're all a mix of good and bad. I've done some terrible things in my life, too. That's part of why I was drawn to EJ. I felt like I had… repented, and if he had a little help he could grow and change, too."

"Do you think he regretted the things he did?"

"I'd like to think that."

"You'd like to, but you don't."

"I don't."

"What else—what was the very last thing he said?"

Sami winced. Every lie she considered invited nasty consequences, so she decided to tell the truth. "He told me that he would see me in hell."

Johnny rolled his eyes. Sami asked why.

"That's kind of cliché, isn't it? Trite? Don't you think?"

"My first thought was that it was probably true," Sami admitted, and then bit her tongue. She had always done this with Will, told him things a young son had no business knowing about his mother. She had meant to do better with her twins, but old habits died hard.

"He didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't think it was true. Didn't believe in God or heaven or hell. I never went to church—except tours of famous ones for my education when we traveled—until Lucas made me go to Midnight Mass at Christmas. I never really tried praying until Will wanted to do it when we were waiting for you to bring Allie back. Anyway, EJ just said that to mess with you. He didn't think you were going to hell. He didn't think there was a hell. You really do?"

"I really do."

"You really think you're going there?"

"I really do."

"Why? I thought you said you—you said you repented. Once you repent, God forgives you and you don't go to hell. Isn't that how it works?"

Sami's eyes filled with tears. She had promised herself that she wouldn't lean on Johnny the way she had leaned on Will, but Johnny's innocent summary of divine forgiveness, in combination with his attempt to soothe her, was overwhelming. "Yes, Johnny, that's how it works."

"So why are you crying?"

"I'm crying because you're so wonderful and I finally have the chance to get to know you."

"Before you go to hell."

"I'm not going to force you to take CCD classes or go to mass every Sunday, but I don't want you to joke about things like that."

"Sorry. Look, tell me a prayer—tell me how to pray that that won't happen."

"I've been praying all day. God… well, he's God. He knows I don't repent for what I did today."

"You saved Allie."

"The things I did to save Allie led to EJ dying. I told you, Johnny, I moved those explosives that blew up the house. I set them up and I brought in the matches. I want you to love EJ and miss him and be sorry he's gone if that feels right for you, but I can't feel those things. I—I decided a long time ago that I'd rather protect my children than protect my immortal soul. God knows that."

"You really think God would make you choose? He'd say 'let this child molester grab your daughter whenever he wants, or spend eternity in a Hieronymus Bosch painting?'"

Sami blinked back more tears as she stared at Johnny's earnest face. "You're very smart, Johnny. Very smart and very nice."

"I'm not always nice."

"None of us are."

"Do you remember what happened while you were in your coma? Right before you had surgery?"

Sami thought about that for a moment; the question seemed to be an unexpected change of subject. "No. I don't remember anything until I woke up and your dad was there. Why?"

"I said some things to you I shouldn't have. I was really angry that I had to come to this new house and new school and new country with all these new people who were saying bad things about Fath—about EJ, and I hated how Allie liked her new family with them better than our old family with me, and… well, I'm glad you didn't hear it. I'm sorry I said it."

Sami kissed the top of Johnny's head. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. The same thing happened to me, you know. Thanks to the DiMeras, my parents weren't who I thought they were. I felt like I was being handed around like some kind of possession, like my feelings didn't matter. I wasn't supposed to love John and Isabella, I was supposed to love these strangers all of a sudden because they said so. I was completely out of control while these people uprooted my whole life and then shipped me off to Colorado. I didn't want to do the same thing to you, but… well, things worked out this way. You're going to have to live in a new place with your new family. Maybe we can talk about you going back to school in Europe when you're a little older if you really want. And I already told you that I'm not going to try to turn you into a Catholic if you aren't willing. Anything I can do to make this easier for you, I will. Anything except be separate from you again this soon."

Johnny nodded silently.

"Feel any better?"

"Yeah."

"Good," said Sami. "So do I."

She tugged at Johnny so his head rested against her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around him.

Almost immediately, Allie knocked softly at the door and entered the room. She smiled at the sight before her and joined them on the couch, cuddling against Sami's other side. Sami put her other arm around Allie, thrilled beyond measure to be holding both of her twins again—finally.

_**TBC**_


	38. Penultimate

**Chapter 38: Penultimate**

For forty-eight hours after the death of EJ DiMera, inspectors and agents of all kinds came to interview Sami, Lucas, Will, Allie, and Johnny on an almost hourly basis. None of the follow-up interviews were as stressful as the first ones. Lucas even started to enjoy them. The interrogations helped to pass time that his family would otherwise have spent irritating each other and climbing the walls. Still, he looked forward to the day that they would be allowed to leave England—not least because Will's snug little house seemed like a palace in comparison to two hotel rooms.

He no longer doubted that they would be able to leave. He could tell from the tone of the questions that, while the investigators wanted to put on a good showing, they did not really want to solve the crime. EJ was dead, and no one in all England (save Johnny) was mourning him.

Enough scraps of EJ's body had been recovered for the police to determine that he had been in the building at the time of the explosion. No one had put forward the theory that he had already been dead. Lucas' gun had clearly not been fired for an extended period of time, and there was no gunpowder residue on Lucas' hands or clothing. Besides, Allie was an infinitely credible alibi.

No one had tested Sami's hands. The blood on her clothing had been explained away.

The general consensus appeared to be that Lucas and Sami would never have presented investigators with the gun and the clothing, and admitted to confronting EJ moments before his death, if they had had anything to hide.

The general consensus was also that EJ had had it coming. Most everyone seemed happy to believe that he, or one of his employees, had caused the explosion.

Or in other words: the world realized what had happened. The world was eager to pretend otherwise. It was cheaper and more expedient than putting Sami on trial and releasing her when she found to be acting in self-defense, or to be temporarily insane, or both.

But Lucas and Sami would still have to find a way to live with what they had done.

Sami was still more troubled than Lucas. That was Sami—always passionate and impulsive and ready to dive off the deep end, good at creating drama but not so good at handling it, prone to fits of believing that karma or fate or a vengeful god was coming for her.

Lucas was more practical. And in the name of practicality, he decided that he and Sami ought to take advantage of their temporary self-imposed detention in the hotel to have a conversation that had been brewing since the moment Sami opened her eyes.

Sami, seeming to sense his intentions, made an impressive attempt to avoid him. Each time Lucas approached Sami, she managed to get herself entangled in a video game with the twins or a phone conversation with Belle.

At last, Lucas cornered Sami.

"We need to talk," he told her.

Her eyes were bright and wild. "Give me another chance," she pleaded.

"Another chance at what?"

She grabbed his hands. "At us. At our family. At our life. At our love. I know you've wanted to get me alone so you could tell me that what happened the other day—us making love—was a mistake. But it wasn't, Lucas! Anything that feels like that can't be a mistake. I love you and I know you love me. You said you loved me, you said it more than once."

"I do love you, Sami," said Lucas quietly.

"But that love comes with limits. And I went past them. I won't this time. I promise. For us, for our children—"

Lucas bristled at the mention of their children. He'd been raising them; Sami had not. He wasn't sure why Sami was using tactics of blatant emotional manipulation before he'd even said a word, but he didn't like it.

"Leave our children out of it," Lucas told Sami. "You know, Will tried to make me promise not to get back together with you. He was afraid we'd end up hurting Allie like we used to hurt him. And Johnny, well, he's barely starting to accept that I'm his father. He's not about to beg us to get remarried. He'd probably rather we didn't."

Sami went pale and sat down shakily. "Will said that?"

"He did."

"When?"

"A few days ago. Right after he told me how he was planning to use certain drugs to do a certain thing that got done without him."

"So he was obviously out of his mind when he said it. He's always thought we belonged together. I know he's an adult now, but… well, it never made me stop wanting my parents to be together. And he doesn't speak for Allie. I guarantee you he doesn't speak for Allie."

"That doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" Sami puffed up, full of righteous indignation. "It doesn't matter that a child who has been through everything Allie's been through wants and needs the support of both of her parents?"

"She'll get that support whether we're together or not, Sami. All I'm saying is stop pretending that you and our children are a package deal."

"Fine." Sami, her face still glowing with anger, looked hard at Lucas. "Dump me."

Lucas sat beside Sami. "I never had any intention of dumping you."

"Then why did you make me do all that?"

"All what? You changed the subject and wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise."

"So you want us to be together?" Sami asked.

"Yes."

Sami threw her arms around Lucas and kissed him hard on the lips.

"But, Sami," Lucas continued, "I want to be sure we want the same things this time."

"I want you and you want me." Sami crossed her arms as if daring Lucas to find a flaw in her logic.

"That was true last time."

"And I told you, this time I know that your love has limits, and—"

"My love doesn't have limits!" Lucas snapped. "I'm pretty sure I love you more than any man has ever loved any woman in the history of the world. They haven't invented words to describe how much I love you. I loved you when I danced with you in that cheap apartment in Salem. I loved you when you locked me outside our hotel room in my underwear. I loved you when I was lying on the floor in my prison cell. I loved you when you put Johnny in my arms when he was thirty seconds old. I loved you when you were trying to frame my mother for SEC violations. I loved you when you were telling everyone you could find that I was a serial killer. I loved you when you went after the other mothers at Will's class party with a knife. I loved you when I saw Allie in your arms after she testified last week. I loved you when I saw you walking down the aisle in your gorgeous wedding dress."

"Which time?" asked Sami wryly as she blinked back tears.

"Any time. All the times. No matter who you were marrying."

"Even when I married EJ?"

"Even then. Sami, that's what I was trying to say. My love doesn't have limits, but I do. Asking me to watch you marry another man, raise our children with another man, live with another man, give in to another man's demands, and spend all of your time with another man was too much. I didn't stop loving you, but I couldn't be with you. You weren't here. And I told you that beforehand, but you didn't care. You were going to do what you were going to do."

"EJ's out of the picture now. Permanently."

"Right. But someone else, something else could come along. And I need to know that the next time I tell you that something has to stop—"

"It'll stop. Whatever it is. I'll argue with you—I'm not going to give up arguing with you—but if I can't convince you, we'll find a compromise."

"Thank you," Lucas whispered.

"Thank you for my second chance," Sami whispered back.

"I think we passed second chance about a thousand chances ago."

"Some of those were your fault."

"Most of them. But you never spent thirteen years in jail over mine." As soon as Lucas said it, he wished he hadn't. He had reprimanded Will time and time again for saying the same thing; he couldn't believe that the words had somehow tumbled out of his own mouth.

Suddenly, Sami wasn't so teary-eyed. "I did not tell you to shoot EJ at my wedding," she said furiously. "That was your own bad decision."

"I know, I know. But you didn't make it any easier on me, did you? You wouldn't testify for me, wouldn't admit you'd put me under any stress. You wouldn't bring Allie to see me. You wouldn't agree to stay away from EJ, and we all know how well that worked out."

"How dare you throw that in my face?" Sami demanded. "Do you think it doesn't torture me every minute of every day, knowing what that bastard did to Allie? And to Johnny? Do you think I enjoyed missing ten years of their life, and Will's? Do you really think this is a good time to say 'I told you so?'"

"Considering the way you ignored me then—"

"You know how angry you and Will got the other day when I asked if you were sure letting Allie testify was a good idea? And you felt like since I hadn't been there, someone had to make the decision? Well, when you were in jail, I had to make the decision. It was a bad one. But day in and day out, I was with the twins and I watched Allie missing you. I didn't want Johnny to have to miss the man he thought was his father too. I thought I could help EJ be better. I wanted to help him be better. I wanted to help my family be better. I wanted to be better by making them better. I was always the black sheep and I was so tired of that. Always being the bad girl wore me down. It burned me out. And if I'd done all that work trying to be worthy of you and our children and then I'd testified that I was such a horrible wife that I drove you to shoot EJ—" Her voice broke off and the tears returned. "I couldn't do it, Lucas. I could have done anything but that."

"I know," Lucas whispered. He pulled Sami into a hug. "I know that. I didn't even want to ask you at first. Philip badgered me into it."

Sami shifted in Lucas' arms. "But I finally solved it. He won't hurt Allie or Johnny or Will again. He won't hurt you again. Sometimes—sometimes I was almost glad you were in prison because you were off EJ's radar then. Keeping you in got to be part of his stupid rivalry with Kiriakis Enterprises, but he wasn't threatened. While you were in prison he wanted you alive more than dead. But he's gone now. Gone," she repeated fervently.

She kissed Lucas along his jawline and slid her hands beneath his shirt.

Lucas disentangled himself as gently as he could. "Sami."

She looked at him, confused and hurt. "What?"

"I want to do this with you." He looked her up and down and up again. "I really, really, really want to do this with you. But I don't think we should do it again until it can be about something other than EJ. It should be about us."

Sami nodded and straightened her clothes, though they didn't need straightening. "I agree." She glanced wildly around the room, and then rushed from it, calling "I should check on the twins" over her shoulder.

Sudden silence echoed in the room and Lucas' body ached with emptiness in the place Sami had been. Even the brief brush of Sami's lips on his jaw had made him start to get hard, and now that he had a few seconds to think about it, he realized that he was feeling damned uncomfortable.

"I don't think we should have sex yet? What the hell was _that_?" he scolded himself aloud.

Then, resolutely, he pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

The twins, tired of being trapped inside, announced that no matter what anyone said, they were going to visit the pastry shop that had been their favorite for as long as they could remember.

Sami didn't argue with them. She understood the importance of keeping a low profile, but she also knew that soon her family would be leaving London. She wanted Johnny and Allie to have an enjoyable memory. She wanted to share in the part of their life that she had missed. And she wanted to do something to keep her mind off of Lucas.

His decision to put the physical part of their relationship on hold was a sound one, she knew. She'd had to ask him to do that in the past. But still, it was very… inconvenient. Their lovemaking in the aftermath of EJ's death had been about need and comfort and feeling alive, but it had also been a nasty tease. It had been an appetizer when what she wanted, after years of Lucas-deprivation, was a seven course meal. Multiple seven course meals.

Her stomach was full of butterflies and her panties were damp with excitement. Her nipples felt so hard that she snuck a peek at the mirror to make sure that her bra and sweater were covering them properly. Her hands itched to reacquaint themselves with every bit of Lucas' body. Every time her mind wandered back to Lucas, she felt jolts of sensation in places upon which she was not accustomed to focusing when she was in the presence of her children.

She almost stopped Will when he went to ask if Lucas wanted to join them, but she just barely convinced herself that Lucas deserved this foray into the twins' past just as much as she did.

Will returned with an odd look on his face. "Dad's… asleep," he told Sami. "I think you should wake him up."

"You're a doctor, Will," said Sami irritably. "You don't know how to wake someone up yourself?"

"I missed that day in school," said Will, his voice full of something Sami was too distracted to place.

"Fine." Sami steeled herself and stormed into the next room.

She was greeted by the sight of a dozen flickering candles, a bottle of sparkling cider chilling beside two champagne flutes, and a bed covered with rose petals.

Lucas was wearing only black silk boxer-briefs. His skin was golden in the candlelight and his eyes were dark and fathomless. All signs that the past thirteen years had taken a toll on him had vanished. He stood before her as beautiful as he'd been on their wedding day, as young as he'd been backstage at the Cherish concert, as delectable as he'd been when he'd insisted on parading around her apartment in a glorified washcloth because his shower was "broken."

Sami's eyes widened. "Will?" she called over her shoulder. "I don't want to wake your dad up after all. You three go on ahead, and we'll stay here."

"Already on our way, Mom," Will returned, and from somewhere came the sound of a door slamming.

"Kids are gone?" Lucas asked.

"Just you and me."

Lucas strode forward and covered Sami's mouth with his own. His lips and hands were everywhere at once, tugging off her jeans and sweater, kissing each inch of newly exposed skin. His lips went down one leg and up the other, infuriatingly skipping the area still covered by her panties.

"Lucas," Sami moaned. She wanted to tell him to dispense with the foreplay—they could have afterplay later—but she couldn't find the words.

"Luc—" she tried again, but he kissed her on the lips once more, soft and firm at the same time. The kiss shot straight through her body. Quite unexpectedly, she felt every muscle tighten; her mind, overwhelmed with desire, went blank. Her breath came in rapid, desperate gasps. "Oh, God. Oh, God." She grabbed at Lucas as hard as she could, kissing every part of him that she could reach, but then the universe simultaneously expanded and contracted. She stumbled and became vaguely aware that she was only upright because he was holding her close to his hard, golden body. She slumped into his arms, suddenly relaxed, though not really sated.

"Did you just…?" Lucas asked, looking rather impressed with himself.

Sami nodded shakily. "I think so."

"From a kiss?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe we shouldn't do anything else, then," he teased, but Sami could tell that he was only just holding onto his last shred of control. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs and squeezed gently.

"Sami," Lucas groaned. "Don't. I'm going to—I need—"

Sami had her balance back; she pulled away, making Lucas growl low in his throat. She ripped off her bra and panties and deposited herself on the bed.

"Take everything you need, Lucas."

Lucas did.

**_TBC_**


	39. Home Again

**Chapter 39: Home Again**

Will had a lot of time to think on the plane ride back to Salem.

Joy sat beside him, but she was completely engrossed in reading a medical journal. She had spent over a week away from the hospital and was itching to return to her all-important intern year. Sometimes, half-consciously, she scanned the written page with her left hand and mimed an intricate procedure with her right.

Will liked Joy's hands. They were surgeon's hands, so good at so many things…

The twins, more exhausted than any pair of thirteen-year-olds had a right to be, were fast asleep in front of Will and Joy. Even asleep, though, the sight of them gave Will a burst of energy. Looking at Allie and Johnny always made him feel that way, but somehow it was a perpetual surprise. The twins were strong and smart and determined and brave. They were ready to take on the world; Allie, especially, already had.

And if the twins could face everything life threw at them head on, Will could certainly do the same. He kissed Joy on the cheek. She turned her head, surprised and questioning, but Will waved her back to her work.

In front of the twins, Sami and Lucas were talking quietly. At first, Will just watched them: the way Sami playfully tightened Lucas' seatbelt, her fingers lingering just a second too long on his waist; the way Lucas leaned past Sami to look out the window at clouds and ocean, whispering in her ear as he did.

Then Will strained to hear snatches of conversation. The topics seemed to be mundane—Will's work, the twins' school, the clients at Titan—but the looks, the touches, the earnest undertones made Will ache inside. His parents _fit_. They had always had a way of being hooked together that Will couldn't put into words. It wasn't about having a shared history or shared children. It just was.

Simultaneously, Lucas and Sami's heads snapped back and they looked at Will. Sami gestured at him to come forward. Will shook his head no. Lucas rolled his eyes and unfastened his seatbelt. He strode past the sleeping twins and crouched in the aisle beside Will. A flight attendant eyed them all suspiciously.

"Switch seats with me," Lucas told Will.

"I don't think we're supposed to," Will muttered lamely.

"What we're not supposed to do is be slow about it. Come on, post haste. You know you're going to do it sooner or later."

"Later," said Will, and he turned his head toward Joy and closed his eyes.

"You forced me into it," said Lucas with mock-sadness. "I'm just going to have to sing until you get up and give me this seat."

Will opened one eye. This sounded dangerous.

"All right," said Lucas. "If that's how you want it. This goes out to all young couples in love." He drew a deep breath. _"When a man loves a woman—"_

Sami flushed scarlet and covered her face with her hands. "Lucas!" she hissed. "Will, just give him what he wants."

Will decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He jumped from his seat and deposited himself next to his mother. "I only did this because he was going to wake up Johnny and Allie and they need their sleep," Will informed Sami.

Sami glanced back to reassure herself that the twins were undisturbed. They were. "I always knew you'd be a great big brother," Sami told Will.

Will shrugged. "I never really got a chance until recently."

"And that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Well, sort of." She silently evaluated Will in the way that had always made him feel comforted as a child. "Your dad told me that you didn't like the idea of us… of your dad and me getting together again. I wanted to talk to you about why you feel that way."

"No."

"No? Will—"

"I don't mean, no, I won't talk about it. I mean, no, I don't feel that way anymore. I changed my mind. I was watching you and Dad just now and I was thinking about how you're together, hooked together. Always."

Sami smiled. "I could feel you staring at us, but I didn't know you were thinking nice things."

Embarrassed, Will took advantage up the pilot's announcement that they were now free to turn on electronic devices to avert his eyes by pulling out his phone and checking his messages. He couldn't help laughing when he saw them, and he passed the phone to Sami so she could read them, too.  
**  
From: Belle **  
_Next time you talk to your cousin Abby, you should remind her that she doesn't know Philip well enough to go off on "business trips" with him._

**From: Abby **  
_Welcome back to Salem. I'm not actually in Salem, but I can't wait to see you and your family when you get back. Love you always—you don't even know how much having you in my life has improved my life._

**From: Chelsea **  
_You owe me $5 from when you bet me Abby would go through with pressing charges against Philip for the whole kidnapping thing. Don't worry, I'll put it toward a wedding present. Welcome home!_

**From: Shawn **  
_If Belle sent you a message, ignore it. If Chelsea sent you a message, ignore it. Love you._

**From: Belle **  
_Please ignore my previous message. Love you. _

**From: Philip **  
_Sorry I couldn't be in Salem when you got back. Business; can't wait to get your dad back in the office. Surprise for you in your kitchen, though. Did you see your Uncle Jack in London? How crazy is he?_

Will watched with pleasure as Sami bemusedly read through the messages. When she finished, their eyes met and they broke into unified laughter.

"Sometimes," Sami said after a moment, "I look at you or the twins and it feels like I've been gone forever. But then I look at something like this and seems like all I did was blink, and nothing changed."

"I know what you mean. I mean, I wasn't the one who was gone… except, in some ways I was. A few months ago I was sitting by myself in the cafeteria at work reading a letter Dad sent me from prison. And Dr. Wesley interrupted me to tell me he wanted me to mentor Joy, and that really pissed me off. But I went from being alone in my empty house to having you and Dad and the twins back, to having Joy, to being… whole in a way that I wasn't."

Sami blinked back tears. "I can't say I'm sorry often enough, Will."

"I'm not looking to have you say you're sorry. Especially not for this. You and Dad left me, but you left me with other good people. Uncle Austin and Aunt Carrie were great when everything first happened. And when I came back to Salem Grandma Marlena and Grandpa Bill couldn't do enough for me with school, and there was this whole huge Brady-Horton clan swooping down on me…" He gestured again at the list of messages on his phone. "Pulling me into their lives, trying to be in mine. If I wouldn't completely let go, if I got myself a house but didn't find anyone to share it, that was my decision."

"About your house. Your Dad and the twins and I have sort of taken over. We need to talk about what happens next. We'll look for our own place—"

"No!" snapped Will, before he could even think about it. "The house I bought is perfect for the twins. It's the right distance from their school and the city, but it's far enough out that they have a yard, and the neighborhood is full of kids their age. If anyone moves out, it should be me. I could live in the building Joy does. It would make more sense. And if Joy and I ever wanted to… well, to have a family of our own, maybe we'd… well, not that we're anywhere close to anything like that."

Sami beamed. "I love that Joy at least has you thinking about marriage and babies. But we won't talk about that now."

"Good. Because for now… for now I'd like to spend a little more time with my family, now that you're back."

"I want that, too."

"That house, I don't think I knew it at the time, but I chose it for all of us. If you find somewhere better, that's one thing. Just don't be in any rush to leave and take the twins because you think I'm living this stylish single life and I want you out of my hair. It didn't— _I_ didn't work when my whole family was taken away. I could fake it, get through school, have a job, have friends, but this huge part of me was missing. If I'd thought that all of you were out there happy somewhere, that would have been different. But I knew Dad was just surviving day to day in a cell that's smaller than my kitchen. I knew you were in a coma and I was afraid—I thought the you I knew was gone and if you woke up you'd want—and I thought there was a chance the twins might be dea—you know what, never mind. No hurry for anyone to change anything if you don't want to, that's all," he finished in a rushed, flustered way.

"Okay," said Sami quietly, pretending not to notice how agitated Will had become.

Will looked back at the phone. "Philip and Abby," he forced himself to chuckle.

"We might have to fly back to London to keep your Uncle Jack from strangling your Uncle Philip."

"No, we won't. You know Uncle Jack will come here."

"Probably." Sami scrolled through the messages again, giggling especially at Chelsea's. "You bet against Philip and Abby, huh? I don't blame you. I'd have lost to Chelsea, too."

"Do you remember after you came back from your honeymoon in New Orleans?" Will asked suddenly. "Remember going through the pictures from the wedding, laughing because—"

"Because the pictures Maggie took had Kate's head cut off!" Sami completed. "Yeah. We'll have more times like that. And this."

A wicked grin spread across Will's face. "Can you imagine what Grandma Kate will say when she finds out you've moved in with us and you and Dad are back together?"

They looked at each other and said in unison, "Oh my God!"

"Then she'll pass out."

"She might throw up."

"We'll have a bucket ready."

"And I'll have to have the camera ready! We'll invite her over for breakfast tomorrow so I won't miss getting it."

"Tomorrow?" Sami sighed dramatically. "Oh, well, I guess we have to do it sometime. But first thing in the morning?"

"If we wait, she'll show up without being invited."

"If we don't wait, she might show up without being invited. I swear one summer she barged into my apartment every single morning. She'd always blame it on having cookies she wanted to send you at camp or whatever, but of course she wanted to see if your father was there and get him away from me if he was."

Sami hadn't noticed that he voice had gotten louder as she basked in the memory, which had somehow become a happy one, until a sleepy voice from behind her asked "What are you talking about?"

Sami and Will turned to see Johnny and Allie both eying them with suspicion.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," Sami told them.

Allie and Johnny exchanged a look which clearly communicated that such a thing was most certainly not going to happen.

"All right," Sami began. "Once upon a time there was an evil queen named Kate."

From behind the twins, Lucas cleared his throat.

Sami rolled her eyes. "All right. There was a woman named Kate who loved her son and was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very interested in every little thing he did…."

They were still telling stories when the plane touched down in Salem.

* * *

"… And that's when I said 'you locked me in a port-a-potty, for God's sake, and then you started throwing knives at my mother!'" Lucas concluded as the five of them entered Will's house. Will had said goodbye to Joy at the airport.

The twins, especially Johnny, laughed uproariously. To a young boy, even one who spoke with a proper English accent and made casual references to fifteenth century Dutch painters, nothing was funnier than a story that revolved around a port-a-potty.

Johnny and Allie's homework—topped by the essay entitled _The Case of the Purloined Sirloin_—still lay where they had left it on the kitchen table. Everything was just as they had left it when they had abruptly abandoned the house.

No, there was one small difference. A sign reading "look inside me" was hanging on the refrigerator.

"Philip did say there was a surprise in the kitchen," Will remembered.

Allie, who was closest to the refrigerator, grinned and opened the door with a flourish. The food they had left behind a fortnight before, which would have spoiled by now, had vanished. In its place were fresh, unopened groceries and row upon row of carefully labeled, fully prepared meals.

"Well, that makes things easier," said Sami as moved closer for a better look.

Will draped his arm around his mother. "And since this will be your first night here, you can choose what we're eating tonight." The other nodded in agreement.

Sami smiled devilishly and passed her hand over the carefully labeled containers. "I don't think I want any of this," she said. "I think I should make you all French toast."

"No, no, no!" Lucas exclaimed quickly.

"Why not, Lucas? Is there something wrong with me wanting to cook for my family?"

"Yes," said Will, and Sami glared at him. "I mean," Will corrected, "you need to save your strength for when Grandma Kate comes over in the morning.

"That's very thoughtful, Will," Lucas agreed. He glanced at Sami. "You should listen to him. He's a doctor, you know."

"Are you implying that my French toast might not be healthy?"

"I just think that the best way to welcome you home would be for me to do the cooking," Lucas tried. He pointed at Allie. "Allie-baba, see if there's a loaf of bread in the breadbox. If there's not, get one out of the freezer. Johnny, set up the griddle. Will, get a bowl out of the cabinet behind you. Sami, sit there and look pretty."

Sami crossed her arms and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table.

"One little mistake and you never let me forget it," she grumbled.

Lucas leaned close to Sami and whispered in her ear. "I know you won't make the same mistakes again. Neither will I."

Sami's breath caught in her throat. "I won't, Lucas. I love you."

"I love you, too— hey!" Lucas broke off as a stick of butter hit him in the head.

"You throw like a girl," Johnny told Allie as he stomped across the room to collect the butter. He had apparently been the intended recipient.

"Would've been fine if Dad hadn't moved," Allie muttered.

"As long as it wasn't salt," Lucas told her.

"What does that even mean?" Allie wanted to know.

Lucas grinned. "Well, many, many years ago when your mother and I were young and in love—"

"Another story?" asked Johnny.

"You liked the port-a-potty one, you'll love this one," Lucas assured him.

"How many of these stories do you have?"

"That's not something you can count," Sami broke in. "That's like putting a number on how much I love you all, how much you all mean to me."

The five of them looked at each other for a long moment.

"Anyway," said Sami. "I wanted to show your father how happy he made me, so I decided to make him French toast. And, really, this could have happened to anyone…"

Will, already knowing this tale well, let his mother's voice wash over him without hearing the words. It couldn't have happened to anyone; none of the things that had happened to his family could have happened to another family. But their warm kitchen was still full of laughter on a February evening. And that was enough.

**The End**


End file.
